Windows
by themuse123
Summary: Mason and Eugene have finally escaped the Saviors, but the war is far from over. It's up to them to save Alexandria, but with all their broken pieces they find it hard enough to stay alive. As they forge on, Mason is haunted by her doubts: Do they even stand a chance, or will they be crushed under the weight of an empire? (conclusion to Heathens and Spirits)
1. Under Ground Kings

Hey, guys, super excited and super nervous to begin the last installment of this series. I have a lot of things planned that I can't wait to write, and I hope ya'll will join me for them. I know I left a lot of things unanswered in "Spirits", and I assure you I am going to get to each of them though it may not be for a few chapters yet. The title of the fic itself comes from "Windows" by AWOLNATION. We're starting off strong as far as music today- the chapter title is "Under Ground Kings" by Drake and it is absolutely amazing. The chapter itself is fairly short because I was really anxious to get the ball rolling, so hopefully it'll allow me time to get the next one out quickly. As always, I hope to hear what you think!

1\. Under Ground Kings

The morning was colder than the night. They'd cleaned off the blood as best they could, but Mason could still feel the chill weight of it dragging at her limbs.

Seventeen guns. Eugene's bow and arrows. One fire poker and one machete and a few knives between them.

And Daryl's crossbow. They had that, too.

If it were just the two of them, this arsenal would have been impressive. They might have felt like royalty. They might have felt untouchable.

Mason scowled at the frosted ground as she and Eugene trudged on. They hadn't stopped since throwing themselves to the herd of walkers and her legs were getting shaky. But there was no stopping. There would be no stopping until...

Until what?

Until the Saviors burned? And then what after that? What life was she looking at after that?

She blinked against the sudden sting of tears. She couldn't imagine the life she'd once wanted for herself, that one where she and Eugene lived in peace in their house, tending to their garden in the morning and getting high on the roof at night. Had that ever been a possibility? It felt like someone else's fairy tale.

Seventeen guns. Eugene's bow and arrows. One fire poker, one machete, a few knives. And the crossbow.

This was meager. This was _pathetic_ compared to Negan's cache. And Eugene might have been able to make bullets, but it wouldn't matter if they were using them quicker than he could get his hands on the casings.

 _But we now have information regarding not only the layout of their compound but their inventories and inner workings,_ Eugene had told her when she'd voiced her fears. _That is now our greatest weapon._

Of course he would say that.

Knowledge might have been power to him but all she felt was hopelessly empty-handed. They had nothing extraordinary to offer aside from a few memorized maps.

 _You've done more with less,_ she tried to remind herself.

Yes, they had.

But never when they were up against someone who had brought them so swiftly to their knees. Never against someone who had gutted her so effectively.

~m~

The temperature seemed to drop with every step they took in the direction of Alexandria. Home, she supposed it still was, although it no longer felt like it. The sun sat heavy in a grim sky and offered no relief from the biting air.

Neither of them spoke unless they needed to, but Mason felt Eugene's eyes on her as often as hers were on him.

Months ago, back when Rick fought with Pete, she had come to him in his cell to talk him into giving the Alexandrians a shot. She had told him that the new world demanded different versions of yourself. That parts of her had died and other parts had grown out of the corpses.

Now she only felt like a corpse, and from the way Eugene carried himself she could tell he felt the same.

They had been brutalized into new shapes, the anatomy of how they thought and felt and reacted forced into new architectures. But where she burned- arduously, rigorously- Eugene was the enduring sting of ice. She was a sprawling desert and he was an arctic tundra, but they were both wastelands. And she didn't think she was ever going to feel more relentlessly intertwined with anyone or anything in her life.

Her heart shook, thunder from a distant sky, when they came upon the clearing. Not the one from last night.

The one from _the_ night.

Mason and Eugene halted at the same time, rigid as the memory speared them.

There she was on her knees, watching as first Abraham and then Glenn were taken from them. There she was, screaming as Daryl attacked Negan. There she was being dragged into the van, watching as Eugene made symbols with his hands.

The images piled over each other, spilling gasoline in her brain, catching everything on fire.

She burned so easily these days.

Her breath came in deep, ragged gasps, but she didn't realize this until Eugene wrapped his arms around her. Pressing his face into her hair, he murmured, "We need to get to Alexandria."

He didn't call it home anymore either, she noticed.

~m~

It was approaching noon when they found the highway. Everything looked achingly familiar. They were close- even the air smelled different- yet there was not a trace of excitement in her, no relief that she would see her family again. She knew she wouldn't feel relieved until all of this was over, one way or another, and even after that...

What if this fire remained after everything? What if she could never rid herself of it?

 _Don't think about it,_ she told herself. _It doesn't matter anyway._

They walked parallel to the road, always within the shadow of the trees. They encountered no walkers, no wildlife. As if the forest had muted itself in the aftermath of...everything they had done.

Eugene heard it first, jarring to a halt so suddenly that it startled her. She frowned as he cocked his head, brows furrowed, and that's when she heard it. The deep, diesel rumbling of a truck.

It came from the west, from the direction they were travelling in, and as soon as she spotted it her stomach curled with dread. Eugene's eyes glittered grimly at her. Together they flitted toward the road, dodging from shadow to shadow as the sound grew louder. They just had time to duck behind a tree as the cattle truck flew by, so close the wind from its passing buffeted them.

The breath caught in her throat.

It moved too quickly for her to see inside, but the apprehension pinching her gut had her imagining the worst.

It had come from the west.

The only thing out west for miles was Alexandria.

"Go. Go," Eugene hissed, but she was already running.

The woods blurred as they launched themselves full-tilt in the direction of what had once been home. Her blood whirled so hotly through her veins she was surprised she didn't leave a trail of sparks in her wake.

Then they were swerving across the highway, onto the little, winding road limned through the dense trees like a scar. She remembered every trip back and forth on this road. She remembered the very first time, in the RV so soon after losing Beth, and Tyreese. She remembered, she remembered, she remembered...

The gate was open.

They slowed at the sight of it, and stopped altogether when they saw no one guarding it.

No one in the watchtower.

No one coming or going.

The silence hovered like a vulture. Sinister. Hideous. Her stomach turned over and she drew a thin, shaky breath.

"Eugene," she said and his eyes were like flint, like ice, as he glared down the road at Alexandria. At home, once upon a time.

He took her hand and said, "C'mon." And they walked the last little bit to the place they'd been trying to reach all this time, the place they'd been trying to save.

But they knew what they would find, even before they stepped through the open gate and found no one waiting for them.

Just like everything she'd ever tried to hold on to, her people were gone.

Alexandria had been taken.


	2. Gangster No 1

Hey, guys, I'm back with another chapter! Today's title is "Gangster No. 1" by White Sea, which, if you've never heard White Sea before, is a bit like a mix between M83 and Bat For Lashes (and if you haven't heard either of _them_ before, I highly recommend!) Also, the little bit of poem I've included is from "Sonnet 165" by Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz because I'm a poetry nerd. Thank you all for your reviews and your support, it means so much that you guys have stuck with me so far. Also, to lindir's gaze: I haven't seen Annihilation but I've been wanting to, it looks really cool and eerie! So I'm really glad you got that vibe from the last chapter :) Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Much love to you guys, you really are the best. I hope to have the next chapter up soon!

2\. Gangster No. 1

They walked the path that wound around the community together, sticking close enough that their arms brushed. Neither of them was willing to let their guard down, their eyes continually flicking toward the wall or any corners that might have hid an enemy. But they saw no one, not a single person, Alexandrian or Savior. The silence turned the air to lead.

Eventually they wandered into their first house, the one Carol and Tobin shared with Tara and Denise. The rooms had been ransacked, everything inside either destroyed or stolen. The mattresses were gone, as well as most of the furniture. Mason's fists clenched, remembering that outbuilding back at the Saviors compound packed full of stolen couches and tables and recliners.

Eugene paused in the kitchen, standing with one hand on the counter top, staring distantly, furiously at the granite as if there were images playing there. Mason's chest cracked at the sight. How many hours had he spent in this kitchen, cooking dinners with Carol for the people they loved?

Gently she touched his arm, and when he finally looked at her the winter in his eyes called to the desert inside her. Without a word, he took the few kitchen knives that had been left behind and led the way outside.

They roamed like that from house to house, taking in every broken piece of the place they had fought so viciously for, bled so deeply for. They scavenged what they could, feeling like thieves, tucking every wretched, useful thing they could into their gun bags. There wasn't much. All suitable weapons had been taken. Every crumb in the pantry had been thoroughly scoured. The quiet pressed in with relentless steel.

 _It's all gone,_ she thought hollowly. Every building that had once held such precious life... They were mausoleums. Empty windows reflecting an empty sky.

By unspoken agreement, they saved their own house for last. The door had been left wide open by their plunderers, but even exposed to the January air the rooms smelled of was as ravaged as all the others were. They found nothing they could use on the first floor, so they crept upstairs to the second.

Mason hesitated on the threshold of their room. Her hands trembled.

The mattress was gone. The bed frame sat against the wall like some forsaken skeleton. The dresser had been tipped on its side and clothes flung across the room. Mason's gaze landed on her book of poetry, slouched pathetically beneath the window. Pages had been ripped out, shreds of them scattered like feathers on the floor. They were the first thing she went to while Eugene combed the room.

When her fingers brushed the ragged paper, she half-expected it to catch fire. Phrases of poems she'd spent so many nights memorizing jumped out at her, a jagged script from another world.

One line was perfectly intact, and it howled in her chest.

" _Stay, shadow of contentment too short-lived..._ "

Robotically she reached for the little strip, reciting the rest of the stanza in her mind.

 _...illusion of enchantment I most prize,_

 _fair image for whom happily I die,_

 _sweet fiction for whom painfully I live._

She didn't realize that she was tearing the paper into smaller and smaller pieces until Eugene knelt before her and grabbed her hands.

"May?" he said warily. "Are you with me?"

It took her a moment, but she nodded. "Yeah. I'm here."

Gently he pried what was now no more than confetti from her hands and set something else in its place.

"Found something."

She blinked down at the little white rock, the one that looked like the moon that Eugene had found for her months ago, and for some reason this was what finally brought the sting to her eyes.

"The other one..." she rasped, swiping frustratedly at her tears.

Eugene smiled a little, though it didn't reach his eyes, and held up his own rock. The one she'd found to match hers.

And said perhaps the one thing that could've made her feel a little more stable.

"They will never take the moon from us."

He helped her to her feet and kissed her forehead. And it wasn't much to offer in return, but she tried to smile for him. It felt weak, mangled, on her face, but the ice in Eugene's eyes softened a bit.

"Did you find anything else?" she asked.

"They left a few clothes behind. I thought it best if we take some. I don't know if you noticed the clouds gathering in the northeast."

She hadn't but she nodded anyway because she understood what it meant. Growing up in Kansas, she'd seen some spectacular snowstorms.

"They were mean mugging pretty hard, so I'm concerned about the temperatures they might bring," he continued. "I...I would suggest we stay here. At least until it passes. If there's a storm we'd be better protected."

Mason heard the pain in his voice, the hesitation, so she didn't give voice to her concern: that the Saviors might come back. Instead she simply said, "If we're able to stay, we'll need firewood."

~m~

They kept close to the community, never straying more than a few yards from the wall. It struck her about midway through their wood-gathering that she hadn't slept since the night before, and exhaustion crashed over her with such brutal suddenness that she swayed on her feet.

 _We'll need to hunt, too,_ she realized, and the thought made her want to cry with frustration. After everything they'd endured, every goddamn life-sucking moment, couldn't they just get a single break?

Eugene met her as she stumbled through the gate, loaded down with the armful of branches she was debating whether or not to just drop. Twigs prodded her and her hands were bleeding from splinters and the cold and she just wanted to lay down and sleep for a week.

"That's the last one," she growled when Eugene took the wood from her.

He eyed her cautiously, apparently noting that she was about one splinter away from combustion. "Okay," he said. "You should get inside. Warm up."

"No. We need food. I'd prefer not to have to eat you as a last resort."

He frowned for a moment, examining her face with those quick, analytical eyes. She was almost tempted to ask him what he saw there, but of course she already knew.

Shattered edges and fire. She was just a window in a burning house, broken by a ferocious heat.

After a moment, Eugene said, "Cards on the table, Miss Reynolds, if I had to choose one person in the world to go cannibal and eat me, it would absolutely be you."

Somewhere, buried beneath the rubble, there was a part of her that wanted to smile at that.

But her lips stayed pinched in a frustrated line as she glanced up at the sky. "Tempting as that sounds, I kinda want to keep you around a bit longer if you don't mind."

"Yes, ma'am."

Armed with Eugene's bow and a couple non-explosive arrows, Mason trekked back into the trees. She made it about a few yards out before she heard footsteps coming up behind her. Swinging around, she knocked an arrow and took aim, only to relax once she saw it was Eugene.

"Don't sneak up on me," she hissed.

"That wasn't sneaking," he replied.

"You're right, it was more like an extra loud seizure dance through the woods."

His lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile. "Fair enough. I wasn't attempting to be stealthy, I was trying to catch up to you."

"I thought you were getting a fire started."

"I...I didn't want to be apart from you."

The words struck her like a punch to the gut, hard enough that she almost whimpered. They'd been denied any time with each other while working undercover, had been forced to pretend they _hated_ each other. Being away from him now... The thought physically pained her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reached out and took his hand. "C'mon."

~m~

It seemed luck hadn't totally abandoned them after all. They disturbed a warren of rabbits an hour into their hunt and managed to catch two, which allowed them to return to Alexandria much earlier than Mason had estimated they would. Out of habit they took shelter in their house, though immediately after walking through the door their faces wrenched with identical agony. Eugene stoked up a fire in the hearth while Mason cleaned the rabbits in the middle of the living room.

They ate their meal huddled up close to the fireplace. Mason winked in and out of sleep with her head on Eugene's shoulder, her rabbit half-eaten in her lap. She might've succumbed completely had it not been for the voices that hovered just on the edge of hearing.

Each time she started sliding into unconsciousness, she imagined she heard people talking, people she thought she might have recognized, but it was never clear enough to make out what they were saying. Each time she jolted awake, eyes flickering suspiciously around the room until she had ascertained that it was just her mind playing tricks.

This happened a few times, until Eugene rested his chin on her head and began humming. She recognized immediately the song she'd left playing in his room while they were still undercover, one she'd hoped would lend him strength. The low, soft sound lulled her like a cat's purr and followed her into sleep.

She dreamed she was on a beach, the clouds low and heavy above, the air sultry and dense. Eugene's humming surrounded her, quieting the rumble of the ocean on her left.

She'd been here before. She'd dreamed herself here a few times.

It was peaceful at first. She felt safe in the strangest way, not as if she'd been here before but more as if...as if this was a place to come home to. She meandered slowly along the waterline, digging her bare toes into the sand, melting into the sound of Eugene's voice.

But after a while...the back of her neck began to prickle.

She glanced around as the feeling grew, examining the dune cliffs on her right and the woods atop them. She saw nothing, but the feeling of being watched persisted until her heart was an anxious bird, beating its wings against her rib cage.

" _Here is your longest night. The darkest winter Solstice..._ "

The voice came out of nowhere, no more than the barest whisper brushing past, but it instantly set her hair on end.

Before she could react, someone grabbed her arm and dragged her roughly into the ocean.

She drew breath to scream but water filled her throat. Desperately she thrashed, kicking and clawing blindly, but the waves crushed her and her captor held tightly to her arm. An anchor dragging her down, down, away from that peace...

" _I'm going to dissect you,_ " that insidious voice hissed. It had a sound like the lightless, bone-breaking depths at the bottom of the sea- because that's where it was taking her, that's where it intended to _end_ her- but...

But it was also horrifically, piercingly familiar.

She fought against the water weighing her down, adding pound upon pound of resistance to her movements, until finally she could get a glimpse of her attacker's face.

Gina's eyes glinted at her, two unnaturally bright emeralds in a world of deepening black. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything more malevolent.

" _I will take everything you love._ "

Panic bubbled in her chest, lending her enough strength that she was finally able to break free. Gina simply watched, suspended in the dark, grinning a cartoonish snarl of a grin.

The voices started up again, louder this time, clamoring over each other in time with the frantic rhythm of her heart. The only thing she could pick out in the cacophony was her own name, colored by an urgency that rushed her pulse along at breakneck speed.

The din rose to a deafening thunder as she swam for the surface, except...

Except there was no surface.

Everywhere she looked, there was nothing but inky black.

 _I'm going to die here, with that...thing._

She did not dare think of it as Gina. Did not dare think its name lest she summon it.

Her terror rose and crested and rose again until it reached fever pitch and then

suddenly

everything went quiet.

Except for a single sound, the only one that could touch her through the fear.

In another world, Eugene had begun humming another song. She recognized it with a twitch of surprise, the song she'd sung to him after he'd confessed to the Lie, after Abraham had almost killed him.

She went still, listening.

And like a beacon, like a tether, the sound pulled her out of the dark. As she rose, she thought she heard a faint, angry growl below her, but then her eyes flew open and she was once again sitting in the living room, warm from the fire, a half-eaten rabbit in her lap.

Eugene went silent as she jarred awake, gasping as though she really had been trapped underwater.

"May," he said. "It's okay. I'm right here."

"I..." She wanted to tell him about the dream, the horrible place she'd been dragged to, but the words caught in her throat. She swallowed around them instead and said, "How long was I out?"

"Not long. A few minutes. Do you want to talk ab-"

"I need some air."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she scrambled to her feet and out the door.

The cold had turned brutal, but it felt good after her stifling dream. She took deep, deliberate breaths as she walked, until every last trace of terror had dissipated with the wind.

She didn't have a place in mind when she started out, but her feet carried her of their own accord.

When she caught the scent of pine, she stopped.

They stood like sentries before her, dark and woolly against a grim winter backdrop. Behind them, the graveyard.

She hesitated. One hand stretched out, like it couldn't help itself, and brushed against the pine needles. They felt unexpectedly soft between her fingers. Like they were welcoming her through.

After another moment's deliberation, she pushed through the branches to the other side. Her eyes landed immediately on the two graves closest to her. The names etched into the wooden markers.

She thought she was ready. But the sight of them grabbed her by the throat, exterminating all other thoughts even more effectively than the January chill.

Slowly she drifted into the space between the graves and sank to her knees. Her fingers dragged lightly through the soil as the tears spilled down her cheeks, stinging in the frigid air.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Maybe she could have saved them, somehow. Maybe she was responsible for Glenn's death and maybe not. It didn't matter.

she was sorry she was sorry she was sorry

"Jesus _fuck_ with the _theatrics_."

Her spine stiffened.

The voice seemed to come from behind her, but...

It couldn't have been real. It couldn't have. It was just her ruined brain, just whatever part of it had snapped under the pressure.

"Real or not, you could build a kingdom around a paper crown, you goddamn drama queen."

"I'm not," she said through gritted teeth.

Talking to herself. She was talking to herself. Great.

" _Are_ you talking to yourself? I thought you were talking to me."

 _Can you hear this?_ she thought.

 _Yes,_ Abraham whispered in her mind. Like they were kids telling secrets.

 _Then you're not real._

 _Maybe I'm just psychic._

She threw a withering look at Abraham's grave, refusing to turn around.

"Don't not look at me like that," he might have said, again from that place behind her. "If I've learned anything from TV shows, it's that head injuries almost always give you superpowers."

Her blood surged. " _Shut. Up._ "

"May?"

She turned then, her cheeks flaming with heat to find Eugene emerging through the pine trees. Out of the corner of her eye, she searched for the source of...of the _other_ voice. And saw no one.

 _I'm losing my mind,_ she thought faintly.

"Hey," she rasped.

But Eugene, bless him, didn't look at her like she was crazy.

The understanding in his eyes broke her heart.

"I didn't...get a chance to say goodbye," she said as he knelt next to her.

Eugene nodded, examining his moon stone. Her own was tucked safely in her coat pocket.

"I don't mean to disturb you," he said.

"You're not. Believe it or not, I _like_ you being around."

He huffed a short laugh. "Well, I certainly am glad the novelty hasn't worn off yet."

They lapsed into silence for a while, in which Eugene examined the sky and Mason examined his face. He had something else to say, she could tell, but she didn't pry. He would tell her when he was ready.

Her gaze traced idly over the scar on his face. She knew he was self-conscious about it, though he'd never said it, but she'd always thought it looked ruggedly handsome. Why hadn't she told him that before? Fuck, seriously, if she'd learned _anything_ in her long, stupid life it was that you had to embrace the scars. She opened her mouth, prepared to say exactly that, but he spoke first.

"He made me kneel in front of him while they cut my hair."

Everything inside her went quiet. Even the fire dulled down to a sullen smolder. She didn't say anything, just let Eugene continue at his own pace, but she thought she knew where this was headed.

"I thought of that day, back when we were still on the road, when we left the church. Tara asked if my hair was my source of power."

"I remember," Mason said, smiling just the slightest bit. "You said you couldn't slay a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of an ass, but I don't know. You took on that army of walkers pretty expertly."

Eugene blinked gratefully. "Well, you taught me," he said. "I thought of that, too, and how the good book had apparently gotten it wrong. They were trying to mold me into a pawn, but all I could think was that they had given me war hair. Perhaps erroneously, I was convinced there was a certain strength in the subterfuge. It wasn't that I wasn't afraid, but I was...angry. Self-righteous with it."

Angry. Well, she was pretty familiar with that, wasn't she?

"When they brought me here," he continued, "I had no idea what Negan had planned. I swear I didn't. I thought...I thought he would employ some method of punishment, but...he said he wanted Alexandria alive. He said he was tired of wasting resources and I believed him, I _believed_ him."

He crumpled then, hiding his face behind his hands, and the sound of his crying brought on tears of her own. He looked so defeated. A breath away from collapsing.

Swiftly she pulled him into her arms. There wasn't any way she was going to let him lose himself. There were things she would give up and sacrifice and bleed out like poison, but not him. Never him.

When he finally removed his hands from his face, it was to hold them out like he couldn't bear to have them a part of his body.

"I killed Spencer," he said in a small voice.

Mason tightened her embrace.

"I know."

"I killed one of our own. I _killed_ him."

"You had no choice."

"But I did. Negan ordered me to choose who to make an example of. _I_ chose. I could have laid down my weapon and allowed him to shatter my skull, but instead I traded Spender's life for mine. I tried to justify it. After that night, with Glenn and Abraham, Spencer wanted Rick dead. So I chose the one among our family who might pose a threat... But every night since then I fall asleep knowing that it should have been me."

" _No_ ," Mason said fiercely. "Don't say that. You were protecting our family."

"I was arrogant to chose," Eugene replied. "And I will never know if Spencer had a change of heart. I will never know if I killed an innocent man."

Briefly she closed her eyes at the true depth of his pain. There was nothing she could say. There were no words to ease such complicated guilt and she knew that better than anyone.

Still, she found herself murmuring, "I trust you, Eugene. I trust your judgment. What if's like that will haunt you for the rest of your life, but you are so smart and so strong, and I think your what if's are probably more like close calls."

After a moment, he pulled away to look at her. "You're the only one that trusts me now. The others want me dead."

"They will understand. When all this is over, I'll make sure they do."

He sighed and wiped the tears from his face, and when they were gone his face had returned to the frigid mask from before. "That's the least of our concerns anyway."

Sensing he was ready to change the subject, Mason cast a quick glance at the clouds, which had grown significantly thicker. "Best theory wins," she said.

"What are we theorizing?"

"Our people- where they were taken and what's being done to them."

Her voice was surprisingly strong, but they both flinched.

Eugene narrowed his eyes. "You don't think they were taken to the compound."

"Not the one we were at. It's the safest, but it's also the most crowded. At least, from what I heard."

"Yes, Simon implied something similar. He also implied that larger groups of hostages are often taken to separate holding facilities, so...yes. I wouldn't be surprised if your theory is correct. As for...as for their condition-"

"They're alive."

He peered at her. "You sound so certain."

"If he wanted them dead he would have just slaughtered them here. And..."

She broke off, swallowing thickly.

"There are things worse than death. He knows that."

 _She_ had told him that. _She_ had told him, drinking bourbon in his dimly lit office. And now her people had been carted off to who knew where like _cattle_ , like fucking _livestock_ -

Suddenly Eugene hissed through his teeth and held up his hand in a silent signal: _quiet._ She drew her fire poker and lurched to her feet. They stood back to back for a moment, weapons drawn, as they tried to pinpoint the sound that had started up in the distance.

Finally, Eugene said, "Car. From the east."

Sure enough, a moment later she heard it, too, the telltale rumble of a truck, possibly motorcycles as well. Her heart thrummed jaggedly against her ribs. Instinctively they reached for each other's hands and took off running.

When they reached the house, Mason tore through like a whirlwind, gathering up their things. Eugene made quick work of dousing the fire and erasing all evidence of their stay.

But by the time they finished up, two trucks were already pulling through the gate, followed by a small caravan of motorcycles. Saviors, all of them. She recognized each face and hated herself for it.

They stole silently out the back door as the men disbanded. A few trees hid them from view, but the wall was their only way out and there wasn't a place to scale it that wasn't visible from one angle or another.

When they got there, Eugene pulled the ingots Enid had stashed from a bramble at its base. He handed them to Mason and growled, "You first. No arguing."

Her temper flared, and she might very well have snapped at him had they not been cutting it so close. Using the ingots as leverage, she scurried up in record time and then hovered at the top to cover Eugene while he followed.

Tenuous as it was, their luck held. None of the Saviors noticed their escape, too busy making themselves at home in a gutted town.

Mason and Eugene slipped like ghosts into the trees just as the first snow began to fall.


	3. Hunger of the Pine

Hey, guys. First off and most importantly, a big thanks for your support, it always brightens my day. Secondly, I just wanted to say that I know the story so far (not just this one, but the last part of "Spirits") has been pretty grim and I promise it's not going to be like that the whole way through. As much as I love darkness and all that, I need to balance it with joy, and vice versa. There is, in fact, a bright spot in this chapter that I really needed to write, so hopefully ya'll enjoy it, too. Anyway, today's title is "Hunger of the Pine" by alt-J, which is...just...perfect. I hope to have the next chapter up soon, I'm pretty excited about it, until then let me know what you think.

3\. Hunger of the Pine

 **Mason**

The white surrounded them, dulling the shape of the world. They could not see a foot in front of them, so thick was the cascade of snow, and the howling of the wind ripped away the sound of their voices.

And the snarls of the walkers.

Snow-blind and exhausted, Mason and Eugene had accidentally wandered into a pack of them not long after the blizzard screamed into full force two days prior. There was no way of knowing how many there were, how extensive the territory was that they'd claimed, and no way of knowing which direction to go to leave them behind. They were lost, they were sleep-deprived and cold, they were-

 _Fucked in the ass,_ Mason thought, jarring to a halt as yet another walker materialized just inches from her face. Eugene ran his machete through it's head and tugged Mason back by the cord that connected them.

He'd pulled it from his rucksack the moment their visibility had begun narrowing to the tiny circle of space they now occupied. With expert fingers he'd tied one end around her wrist and the other around his own, leaving enough slack between them so that they could maneuver as they needed to.

"I'm not letting this turn into the end of _The Shining_ ," he'd growled while she watched.

"What? You don't want to die with cinematic impact?" she'd replied. "I've always been enticed by the thought of becoming some eerie relic the children dare each other to go see. I want to be the reason a group of misfits has a life-changing adventure in the woods."

"Well, you got part of your wish: here we are."

 _Yep. Here we are. Two dumbass misfits about to become two dumbass popsicles._

For two days, they'd traveled through the storm, sleeping little and eating even less. In fact they were coming up on their twenty-four hour mark for how long they'd gone without proper sleep and she was beginning to feel desperate for it. The food could wait, she knew, though her stomach pinched at the thought. But they needed to rest.

Mason let out a frustrated shout as three walkers coalesced out of the snow. She leapt back a heartbeat before they buried their teeth in her flesh.

She took off their heads with her fire iron, sending a cloud of dark red clots into the air. Some of the blood splashed into her mouth. Spitting wretchedly, she let Eugene drag her to the left, but to the left there were trees and walkers, and to the right there were trees and walkers, and they were cold and wet and _fucked_ , they were rats in a maze with no exit.

The snow piled higher with each step they took in the direction of alabaster nothing, and Mason's legs began to burn with the effort of struggling through the drifts. At one point she took a step, expecting to sink a few inches, and instead sank in all the way to her thigh.

" _Fuck_!" she said. Quickly she jammed her iron into the drift to brace herself, and it was the only thing that kept her from toppling over.

Sheer exhaustion rolled over her in a crushing wave. For a moment she just stood there, leaning against her fire iron, fully convinced that it wouldn't be too bad to go the way of Jack Torrance.

 _Of course in the book he doesn't freeze, in the book he's killed in an explosion, now that wouldn't be too bad either, at least it would be warm, at least it would be quick._

She was aware that her thoughts were a rambling mess, but she was so goddamn _tired_ , she felt almost drunk with it.

 _Explode or freeze, explode or freeze._

 _Fire or ice, fire or ice._

"Some say the world will end in fire," she whispered.

"Shelter."

Mason jumped at Eugene's voice. He'd leaned in close to help free her from the drift, and even though he was right next to her ear he still had to shout to be heard above the wind.

"We need to find shelter," he continued.

She blinked, her eyelashes frosted in snowflakes, and gave him a look that translated roughly into _Fucking where?_

He pointed to the drift. "That one's not deep enough," he said, and she was tempted to tell him that it felt fucking deep enough to her frozen fucking leg. "We follow the wind."

Too weary to bother asking why they were following the wind, Mason stumbled after him.

She supposed they probably should have found shelter before, but when they'd started out they had hoped to make their way back east, find a place to hunker down closer to the Saviors while they came up with a plan to rescue their people. But the blizzard had swept in quick and driven them into the walker pack and they'd barely had a moment to breathe. The rare moments they'd had to stop and rest, they'd had to make do with the dubious shelter of bushes and snow-heavy undergrowth.

Mason covered Eugene as he plowed forward, keeping watch for any walkers that decided to appear out of nowhere. She was so intent on her task that it startled her when a dark, towering shape loomed in front of them, and she readied her iron to fight before realizing that it was just a spruce tree.

Eugene stopped. Where he stood, the snow came up to his knees and sloped even higher where the wind had blown it against the branches.

Setting down his gun bag, Eugene knelt to dig a little tunnel into the drift. Mason stood at attention beside him. Every howl of the wind, every groan of burdened tree limbs set her on edge.

After a moment, he tugged on the cord between them. "Come on."

She crouched down to follow as he burrowed beneath the spruce boughs. Pine sap and needles clung to her as she pushed her way through to the other side...and blinked in surprise.

Three spruce trees formed a tight ring around them, screening them from the brutal wind. Banks of snow girdled the lower branches. The canopy of needles above was dense enough that it kept the center of the alcove dry.

"Nice find," Mason rasped.

"Thank you, thank you," Eugene replied, untying the cord from their wrists.

To give them a little more head room, they hacked out a space in the branches and used them to strengthen the bank walls. The heat built while they worked and Mason felt some of the feeling return to her fingers and toes. The thawing, however, brought on a round of shivers that she could not seem to get a grip on.

"J-j-jesus f-fuck," she said. "I th-think my bones are r-rattling."

"You sound like a maraca," Eugene agreed, holding open his coat for her to crawl into. Eagerly she squirmed into his lap and let him wrap the coat around her, and as his warmth enveloped her she sighed and leaned her head back on his shoulder.

Her nose brushed absently at his neck. She breathed in the scent of him, the smell of home she'd missed for so long, and felt a deep, furious hunger awaken within her.

"I'll get a fire started in a minute," he told her quietly.

But he had already started one inside of her. The ache of wanting him was sudden and overwhelming, and her fingers made fists in his shirt, reckless with the desire to tear it right off of him.

 _You made the right decision, Mason._

The fire stilled.

 _I'm going to take care of you...so long as you take care of me._

And just like that, her longing turned to nausea. She could not stop hearing the echo of Negan's voice, the feel of his hands on her body, the thick, choking scent of him...

Her stomach turned over and she swallowed bile.

 _So even this,_ she thought. Bitterly. Violently. _He's fucked with this, too._

Her hands felt vile. She had caressed him with them. Her lips felt like a scourge. She had kissed him, taken him in her mouth when he'd asked, like she was no more than his own personal whore, and really, hadn't she been?

How could she think of touching Eugene the same way? It was abhorrent. She was a _cancer_. Negan had breathed his cigar smoke into her and now she was a poison...

With that, she struggled out of Eugene's arms. "I'll get the fire started," she said quickly, before he could ask what was wrong. Her fingers shook as she gathered up as much dry kindling as she could reach, though it was no longer from the cold.

She didn't look at Eugene but she could hear the worry in his voice when he said, "May..."

"You know, for such a scaredy cat, you watch a lot of horror movies," she swept over him. She could not allow herself to think or feel certain things, she just _couldn't_ , so it was either breezy nothingness or the all-consuming, hellishly exhausting fire.

 _When in doubt,_ she thought, _repress._

Eugene watched her like he could read all of this on her face. Which, she supposed, he probably could. Even though he had taught her all the tricks, she had never quite mastered lying to him. But when he spoke, it was just to say, "Horror is a criminally underrated genre. Next to sci-fi it was probably my favorite. And watching scary movies made me feel braver than I was...at least until it was time to turn out the lights."

Mason laughed, and it was an empty, empty sound, but it was better to pretend, right? Pretend that things were okay, just for now, because how much more could they take until they broke? And she already felt so wildly unstable...

 _You can't lose it yet,_ she told herself. _You still have a job to do._

Eugene seemed to sense her desperation, because he said, "Best horror movie- go."

To distract her. To make her feel...normal. She took the out gratefully.

"Without question, _Halloween_. Redefined the genre, gave lifeblood to the slasher category- pun very much intended- and...let's face it, Michael Myers was a badass serial killer."

"All very good points. You're absolutely wrong, of course, _The Ring_ is superior, but-"

"Oh, miss me with that bullshit. _The Ring_ was scary, yeah, but in no way was it superior."

"Would you like me to elaborate?"

"Yes, and cite your sources because I think you're full of crap."

They talked for a long while, sitting around a tiny fire that, despite its reluctant size, filled their nook with heat. They talked about things that didn't matter because to talk about anything else was like swallowing embers, razors, hornets, especially when they could do nothing about it.

Especially when they didn't even know if they'd _survive_ to do anything about it.

The Saviors were probably warm and safe in Alexandria, corrupting everything her people had ever worked for. This thought made her almost sick with rage. So she tried not to think of it at all.

In fact it became difficult to think in straight lines after a while. It was blissfully warm in their nook compared to the outside and her eyelids began to droop as the weariness invaded the very marrow of her bones.

Eugene cupped her face in his hand. "Sleep," he said. "I'll keep watch."

"In an hour, okay?" she mumbled, already settling down on a cushion of pine needles. "You need to sleep, too."

She was gone before he could reply.

 **Eugene**

He had seen the change in her from the very beginning. From that very first night, after Glenn and Abraham, he could tell something inside of her had broken. Some irreparable piece.

Or maybe it _could_ have been repaired, but life had not allowed her the luxury to do so. With her new, shattered edges, she had been sent deep into the snake pit and forced to play house with the man who'd shattered her in the first place.

And after all that, after every sacrifice, her people had been taken anyway.

Now she was a fire, consuming her way forward, just like Abraham when Eugene had first met him.

" _I'm on a very important mission_."

But fires burnt out.

 _The man knelt on the edge of the woods with the gun in his mouth, ready to fire until Eugene shouted for help._

He flinched from the memory, his eyes darting to Mason's curled form, which twitched every once in a while in response to some kind of dream. She'd said to wake her in an hour but he didn't have any intention of doing so. She needed more sleep than that.

Still, his own tiredness weighed him down, whispering for him to close his eyes...

 _No._

He jolted upright, heart fluttering. If they both fell asleep, they risked not only an ambush by walkers but a quiet slip into hypothermia. He needed to stay awake to keep the fire going and to keep watch over Mason.

Hastily he reached into his pocket and pulled out the lighter, the one he'd carried with him since...

 _"So w_ _hat do you call yourself, soldier?"_

 _Eugene blinked as they drove down the road._

 _Soldier. This veritable tank of a man had called him soldier._

 _Puffing out his chest a little, Eugene replied, "Dr. Eugene Porter, pleased to make your acquaintance."_

 _"Well, howdy, Eugene. My name's Abraham, and I am currently covered in blood and in desperate need of a smoke. You got a light?"_

 _No self-respecting chemist traveled without one_ , he thought, glancing between the lighter and Mason. Each time he blinked, it took more and more effort to open his eyes again.

Shoving up the sleeve of his coat, he flicked the lighter and held the flame to his arm, right where his mother had pressed the cigarette when he was young. He hissed but held it there a moment longer, until tears blurred his vision. Only when he felt reinvigorated by the pain did he sit up straighter, slipping the lighter back into his pocket.

Mason murmured agitatedly in her sleep but quieted when he ran his fingers soothingly through her hair. With his free hand, he reached into the gun bag and pulled out her iPod. Keeping the volume low, he set it on shuffle and settled back against one of the tree trunks.

The night after befriending Abraham, he had slept for the first time since walkers had driven him from his apartment. When he'd fallen asleep, Abraham had been sitting against a tree, staring resolutely into the darkness, and when he'd awoken, Abraham had still been there. _Semper fi_ embodied.

But Eugene was the one standing guard now. And he wondered, as the wind howled its disconsolate rage, if Abraham had felt the same weight that night. If he had felt like Sisyphus, rolling that rock alone.

 **Mason**

Her dreams were feral, indiscernible things that tossed her like waves in her sleep. The voices were back, just as cacophonous as before. She couldn't make out a single word aside from her name.

It was the silence that woke her. Even unconscious, the shrieking wind was a backdrop to everything else. It died slowly, like a sunset, and when it was gone the absence of it prodded her back to reality.

Dazzling white blinded her and it was a moment before she could open her eyes completely. The blizzard had nearly buried them. It was impossible to tell how much snow had fallen, but the drifts encircling them were easily five feet high.

She sat up. Above her, through the branches, shards of blue sky glimmered.

"Eugene?"

"Present."

She turned to find him slouched against one of the spruces, eyes heavy and feathered with shadows. Her headphones sat around his neck, her iPod cupped delicately in his hands like a relic.

She frowned. "How long have I been out?"

"About five hours."

" _Five hours_? I told you to wake me in one!"

"You needed to sleep."

"So do you. God _dammit_ , Eugene."

Her insides were sparking, the anger returning now that she had regained some of her strength. Eugene just gave her a tired smile and handed her the iPod.

"I took great pains not to drain the battery. I only played a few songs."

"You know I don't care if you use it," she growled. "But I _do_ care if you pass out from exhaustion. So lay the fuck down and start counting sheep."

"Yes, ma'am."

He curled up on the bed of pine needles, where her body heat lingered, and was snoring a heartbeat later. Her initial irritation stamped out, a flood of guilt prickled under her skin. He was just as tired as her, but he'd stayed up so she could rest.

 _You don't deserve him,_ a voice whispered from the back of her mind. _You're a piece of shit._ _You're a whore._

Gritting her teeth, she set to work stoking up the fire. But the voice kept up its slimy whispering until her fingers trembled.

 _Please,_ she thought. _Please shut up._

"Don't listen to it. You _do_ deserve him. I thought you knew that by now."

The voice jolted her like a prod to the spine.

Her eyes squeezed shut, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks.

 _No. No, this can't be happening._

"Mason, it's okay. I'm not here to freak you out."

 _It's not Glenn. It's not Glenn. It's not_

"I just want you to know that you can still fight it. This isn't permanent. It's just who you had to be for a little while."

She refused to look behind her, where his voice was coming from. Eugene never showed any sign that anyone was talking aloud, never even twitched, so either she had become some kind of ghost liaison or...

 _Psychosis._

Denise had mentioned it before, when Mason had confessed to her that she sometimes heard Beth's voice.

It was common among people with post-traumatic stress disorder, she'd explained, and Mason had scoffed a little at the time. That was something only war veterans got, right? That was what Abraham had. There was no way _she_ had it. Depression, sure. Anxiety, fucking obviously. But...PTSD?

But Denise had eyed her very seriously and said, "Any really traumatic experience can give someone PTSD. I'd be surprised if you were the only one in this community who suffered from it."

Because anyone who was still alive had gone through some kind of hell to remain so. Still, Mason hadn't really believed that it could happen to _her_ , but she'd listened attentively as Denise ran through a list of symptoms and coping mechanisms.

Or...hadn't _wanted_ to believe, she supposed was more accurate. Apparently she should have.

Denise had taught her some breathing and muscle relaxation exercises, but they all seemed paltry compared to the intensity of the fire, the authenticity of the voices.

So she slipped on her headphones, her oldest, most time-tested coping device. While she cycled through the music that steadied her the most, she practiced swapping out her thoughts for less distressing ones.

It was tougher than she anticipated. She was better at denial.

~m~

 _They hadn't celebrated any holidays since a rather humble Christmas at the prison, so she'd been surprised when Carl and Enid announced that they needed her help with Halloween decorations._

 _"Maggie and Tara are gonna help, too, and I think Rosita, but you're a horror nerd so we need your expertise," Carl had explained._

 _Rick had okayed it, apparently, had even seemed excited about it. According to Carl, his dad used to love Halloween, which Mason found hilarious and endearing. And it was her favorite holiday, too, so she didn't think twice about helping._

 _She met each day for a week with Maggie, Tara, Rosita, Eric, Sasha and Heath. Abraham called them hen sessions, but for all his teasing he took it upon himself to bring them coffee and snacks and helpfully point out where to add the fake spiders he'd scavenged for them._

 _The day of the celebration, the whole community pitched in to put up the decorations. They were quite impressive, if Mason was being honest, especially for such limited means. The kids were beside themselves with excitement, and really the adults were, too. There was an air of festivity over the whole town that they hadn't experienced since winning the battle for Alexandria._

 _Aaron and Olivia aided Carol and Eugene in the kitchen, preparing what goodies they could for the kids. At sunset, the trick-or-treating started. They'd managed to scrounge up a bit of candy to go around, supplemented by fruits and the little cookies Carol and Eugene had shaped into pumpkins and bats._

 _The kids hadn't had access to traditional costumes, so most of them dressed up as the adults instead. Mason was both embarrassed and flattered when she saw one of the little girls dressed as her. She lost her shit completely when she saw the kid who couldn't decided between Eugene and Abraham and so dressed up as both. Judith had looked absolutely adorable as a little Daryl._

 _When the trick-or-treating was over, Gabriel, Mason and Tara told campfire tales to the kids. Gabriel, she was surprised to learn, knew some incredibly spooky stories. By the time their parents came to get them, the kids were hyped up on sugar and adrenaline, and Mason might've felt bad if their parents hadn't looked so grateful._

Maybe one day, _she'd thought,_ this will be tradition again.

 _Once the parents had wrangled their kids, the three of them headed to Mason's house, where Eugene had invited the rest of the community over for a Halloween party. Everyone was crammed inside, mingling and laughing, passing around drinks and food. Half of them lingered in the living room to watch the horror movies Mason and Eugene had picked out earlier. It was the most fun they'd all had together in a long time and Mason cherished every minute of it._

 _Late into the night, she'd wound up sitting on the front porch with Michonne. They were both tipsy from the punch Carol had spiked, giggling at everything and trying to one-up each other's dirty jokes._

 _"Alright, alright, alright. I got one," Mason said. "_ _What do a penis and a Rubik's cube have in common?"_

 _"Oh, here we go..."_

 _"The more you play with it, the harder it gets."_

 _Michonne doubled over with a snort. "You're demented."_

 _Mason scoffed. "_ Me _? Who was just rhapsodizing about Santa's giant sack?"_

 _Michonne just cackled deviously. "I have an even better one."_

 _"Better than Santa's giant sack? Lay it on me then. Also, I don't mean his sack, I mean the joke."_

 _They spent a good minute snickering over that before Michonne said, "What did the penis say to the vagina?"_

 _"Um..."_

 _"Don't make me come in there!"_

 _Mason laughed so hard she fell over, spilling the last of her punch across the porch. Michonne laid down next to her, grinning._

 _"Alright," Mason said, clutching her aching stomach. "I can't take any more jokes. You win."_

 _Michonne pumped her fist in the air. "Victory is sweet."_

 _"Oh, man. This was such a good idea. I'm so glad Rick's a giant child like the rest of us."_

 _"Yeah."_

 _Mason didn't miss the way Michonne's voice softened, and she was almost drunk enough to ask when in the hell Michonne and Rick were going to confess their undying love. Thankfully the little piece of her that remained sober told her to keep her mouth shut._

 _Instead all she said was, "I hope we can do something for Christmas, too. Even if it's small."_

 _"Small, huh? I've never heard_ that _about Santa's sack..._ "

 _"Will you stop ruining my childhood?"_

 _"Alright, I'm sorry."_

 _"I'm going to ignore how insincere that sounded. But no, for real, we wouldn't have to do much. Some of the best Christmases I ever had were pretty humble. I mean, remember the one we had at the prison?"_

 _They hadn't been able to find any good Christmas trees in the woods, so Rick and Daryl had spent several days scavenging to finally discover a fake one in an antique mall. It was a nightmare of shabby tinsel but the kids lit up at the sight of it, and when Beth and Maggie taught them how to make their own ornaments they improved its appearance significantly._

 _Mason and Tyreese- who, she was delighted to learn, became an absolute child at Christmastime- hung Christmas lights in the windows. They could only spare enough energy to keep them lit on Christmas Eve, but it hardly mattered because on the days leading up to it they sparkled in the sunshine._

 _When Christmas Eve finally rolled around, Mason spent the day hunting with Daryl, bringing down a boar for dinner. The temperature was mild enough that they were all able to gather in the courtyard that night, several campfires lit around them to heat the little area. There was enough food for everyone to eat twice. No one went to bed hungry._

 _Once the kids were tucked in and asleep, Mason and Beth snuck around to each of their cells to leave the little gifts they'd gathered. She could still remember the joyful sparkle in Beth's eyes, that irresistible grin that had Mason grinning, too._

 _And after they had delivered all the presents, they returned to their own cell and drew the curtain. They drank hot chocolate and slow-danced to the Christmas songs on Mason's iPod and giggled over memories of past Christmases. They stayed up well into the morning hours, too excited to sleep, and when they finally laid down in their cot to try, they ended up kissing instead. Until their lips were sore, until their movements became lazy and lust-fogged..._

 _Mason shook her head, swallowing thickly. Sometimes remembering still knocked the breath out of her, and it certainly didn't help that she was drunk._

 _So drunk, in fact, that she didn't stop herself before she said, "I still hear Beth. Sometimes."_

 _Instantly she snapped her mouth shut, so abruptly she nearly took her tongue off. It was one thing telling Eugene about it, she told him everything._

 _Aside from him and Denise, the others didn't know about that night out on the road, after losing Beth, when Eugene had found her wandering the woods. They didn't know about the dreams. In fact, she hardly ever mentioned Beth around them because she couldn't stand the looks, the wariness. Like all they could remember was how completely she had fallen apart. Like they thought it might happen again._

 _So she really didn't want to look at Michonne, didn't want to see the pity and unease in her eyes._

Change the subject. Tell another joke. Don't just drop a bomb like that and leave it open-ended.

 _But Michonne spoke before she could._

 _"I hear people, too. Sometimes."_

 _Mason blinked._

 _Then she looked at Michonne._

 _She had a small, sad smile on her face but there was no pity. No unease. Just tired, unending empathy._

 _"Used to talk to my boyfriend a lot. Before the prison," she said. "He was gone by then, but...I still heard him. Like he was really talking back. Sometimes I still do. On bad days."_

 _The magnitude of what she was telling her kicked Mason in the gut. Michonne was a lot of things but in no way was she an open book. That she was confiding in her about something so deeply personal..._

 _"I'm sorry you hear voices," she rasped, and it was stupid but she couldn't think of anything else to say._

 _But Michonne reached over to squeeze Mason's hand like she understood._

 _"I'm sorry you hear voices, too," she said. "At least yours is a sweet one."_

~m~

She emerged from her memories slowly. Hesitantly.

She couldn't remember laying down but her cheek was resting on a bed of pine needles, her headphones lying next to her. She was sure she hadn't fallen asleep, but the fire had smoldered down to embers. A significant amount of time had passed. Hours. And she hadn't even noticed.

She sat up, wincing at the ache in her stiff muscles. Despite the anemic fire, the heat in their shelter was near-stifling. Mason wiped the sweat from her face and reached out to touch Eugene's shoulder.

His snoring cut off sharply and he jolted awake, reaching for the gun on his belt.

Mason held up her hands. "Whoa, whoa, Eugene, it's just me."

It took him a minute to calm down. She brushed a soothing hand across his cheek while he squinted in the snow-bright light.

"Apologies," he finally rasped.

"You don't have to apologize," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I understand."

He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, but when he reached up to take her hand in his he paused.

"Are you okay?" he said.

"Um. Yeah. You know, relatively speaking. Why?"

He pressed her hand to his face. "You just feel hot."

"Oh. Well, I am a little. It's toasty in here."

Eugene frowned at her a moment longer before saying, "Food and water. That is our number one priority. I don't know about you, but my head feels a bit like a helium balloon."

She nodded. Now that she'd had a chance to rest, other needs were making themselves apparent. She felt more sluggish than she liked.

"We need to head out before we're too weak to do so," Eugene continued. "We'll come back here when we're done. To regroup and plan. Also I don't think it would be a bad idea for you to sip on a little pine needle tea. It's high in vitamin C. If you're coming down with something it might help combat it."

Mason rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom."

They buried the gun bags under a layer of pine branches and snow, sporting only the bare minimum for their hunt. It pained them both to take Daryl's crossbow along, but Eugene, as usual, was right: it was more powerful than his bow, and much less likely to break.

Carefully they crawled out of their shelter, trying to destroy as little of the snow wall as possible. Mason couldn't help being amazed as she tunneled her way out at the height of the drifts.

Her amazement turned to utter shock as they emerged on the other side, and then to despair.

The woods around their shelter were thick and wild, a place clearly not frequented by many people. And in front of them, not even a few miles distant, the woods continued their chaotic scrawl up the back of a slope that reached high into the sky.

The storm had driven them all the way to the mountains.


	4. Reunion

Hello, friends. Back with another chapter, and I actually had quite a bit of fun writing this one. The title is "Reunion" by M83, although the version I used as inspiration here was the White Sea remix (which, holy hell, is so suspenseful and beautiful). I was happy because I was actually able to mix in a bit of fluff and fun in this one to counterbalance the heaviness, so hopefully it's an enjoyable read. Anyway, thank you all for your support and reviews, you guys really are the best. Also, I know ya'll are wondering about Alpha so I'm excited to say that this chapter explains what happened on her end a bit. Anyway! Let me know what you think.

4\. Reunion

"You know that's how he took them, right?"

Mason watched Eugene through the steam of her pine tea. They hadn't been able to find a cup, so they'd used an old soup can instead.

Without looking up from the hazelnuts he was roasting- with all the animals hunkered down, it was the only food they'd been able to find- he raised an eyebrow and replied, "I can only assume you're referring to the fact that to get our people to surrender all you have to do is threaten our loved ones?"

"We care too much. He knows it."

"Yes." His tone was dark with frustration. "Unfortunately I cannot think of a way to remedy this, short of abandoning our loyalties completely. Which, clearly, is not an option."

"I can."

He looked up then, frowning. Mason eyed him steadily.

"Before they brought you to the compound, when Daryl and I were in the cell, one of the Saviors tried to take me away." She didn't explain further, but the implication was clear in her voice.

Eugene drew himself up, his fists clenching. A muscle in his jaw feathered. The rage limning his features...she had never seen such exquisite, annihilating cold.

"Which one?" His voice was deadly quiet.

"Your old buddy, Tyler, actually. AJ-" Briefly, in her mind, she saw his lifeless eyes glinting up at her. She shook the image away. "AJ showed up as Tyler was dragging me out of our cell and took him away. I think Negan might have killed him because I never saw him after that. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that he got me out of that cell by threatening Daryl's life. He got Daryl to comply by threatening _my_ life. And after that...after that we knew. We never said it outright, but we had a pact. That we would die together. That we would do whatever we could to get out, but once they started using us as blackmail, once we became leverage...we would just die together."

Eugene stared at her for a moment. "Rick would never do that. Not where Carl is concerned, or Judith, or Michonne. Not with _any_ of us. I mean...them. I very highly doubt any of the others would be amenable to that option, either. We're...they're too closely knit."

"But they have to know...they have to know by now that there are worse things than death," Mason carried on stubbornly.

"Yes, there are: losing each other."

Mason's eyes flashed.

"I would rather all of us die together, as a family, than kneel for the rest of our lives to that son of a bitch."

There was not an inch of her that didn't mean it. Eugene examined her like she'd become a puzzle he couldn't solve. She glared back.

"There are things worse than death. I thought you knew that by now."

His brows furrowed. "Yes," he whispered. "There _are_."

He reached out to touch her face, and his eyes were all the twilights she wanted to live to see.

"Losing _you_?" he said. "I won't live through that. That is something I will never have the strength for. _That_ is worse than the grave."

But his words lost themselves in her internal flame. Impatiently she brushed his hand away.

"But this isn't about me," she said. The dull throbbing in her head, which had started up while they were still out searching for food, became a jagged pulse. "This is fucking war. Kneeling is surrender. Kneeling means we lose."

Eugene stared at her, wide-eyed. "Mason..."

" _Don't_ try and talk sense into me, Eugene, or whatever the hell that look means. I will not lie down. I will not rest until Negan is dead."

Dimly, in the back of her mind, she heard Abraham cheering her on.

"That's not what I'm suggesting and you know it," Eugene growled. His voice was winter-brittle. "I want him dead. There is not a suitable end for him, nothing near painful enough for what he's done. But we have to be _smart_. If there's a better option out there than suicide, I'd like to consider it."

Mason clenched her fists, nails digging deep into the skin. He was only being honest, only trying to diffuse the rage setting off fireworks in her brain, but she couldn't help feeling pissed off anyway.

"Seriously," he continued, "let's not Abraham this into a more fucked up situation than it already is."

 _Breathe. Relax._

It wasn't a ghost voice that time but the memory of Denise, teaching her square breathing and meditation techniques. Breathing in fours had seemed a little bit like bullshit at the time, but it did seem to help a bit, didn't it? It was better than spontaneous combustion.

"Did you just use his name as a verb?" Mason said. Even with the square breathing, it took a significant effort to speak instead of screaming, to coax the fire down from its cusp.

At least until Eugene threw her a crooked grin, and it caught her off guard so completely that the rest of her ire trickled away.

"Yes," he said. "And I think he would be pleased."

" _Pleased_? We'd never hear the end of it, he'd be fucking unbearable."

 _I'd write it into every thesaurus is what I'd do._

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile, and Eugene's brightened in response.

"I really do love seeing that." His tone was thoughtful. Cunning.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Eugene..."

"Do you know what the hurricane said to the coconut tree?"

"I'm serious, don't even fucking-"

"Hold onto your nuts, this ain't no ordinary blowjob."

Despite her best efforts, laughter broke through her defenses. "You _asshole_!"

His eyes twinkled, warmer than she'd seen them since the escape. "That is a correct assessment," he murmured.

The desire that flooded her then was immediate, but it made her heart thunder with something like anxiety.

She shouldn't touch him.

She shouldn't, but she wanted to.

Her fingers trembled as she laid a hand on his thigh. He held still for her, watching with infinite patience, watching like he knew she needed to move at her own pace.

Still, he closed his eyes and loosed a breath as her hand trailed higher, betraying his own longing. She swallowed, ghosting her fingertips along the edge of his belt. It would be so easy to unbuckle it...remove it...

Her skin prickled with heat.

He didn't smell like cinnamon and cigar smoke. He smelled like pine, campfire, autumn twilight. He smelled like _home_. She had to remind herself of this several times as, slowly, hesitantly, she leaned forward to kiss him.

And leaned away a moment later to sneeze.

Eugene raised an eyebrow. "Bless you."

"Shit. Fuck. Sorry." She rubbed her nose frustratedly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

 _That's just great. Super sexy._

"It would be tragic if you developed an allergy to me."

"Yeah, well, I used to get them really bad when I was younger so..."

She trailed off. There was concern in his eyes, but his lips twitched with amusement. Her brows furrowed in a glare.

"What?"

"You sneeze like that baby panda."

"Shut up."

"It's adorable."

"Shut _up_ -"

"However given our current climate I am inclined to believe that it is not, in fact, allergies."

Gently he laid a hand on her cheek, and then her forehead. She didn't miss the way his expression darkened.

"May, you're burning up."

She blinked. "I feel alright."

Actually, she felt light-headed and more than a little warm, which was why she'd been reluctant to drink her tea. Eugene frowned sternly, clearly not fooled. God, she really needed to learn how to lie to him.

"Okay, I feel a little off."

"Drink your tea. I'll make more."

Dutifully she did so; the flavor was actually incredible but she still had to force it down. Now that she had allowed herself to pay attention to it, she really did feel hot. Beneath her coat, her shirt was damp with sweat, and there was a vague ache at the back of her throat.

 _Just a cold,_ she thought, and she might've believed it without a doubt except...

Except she could remember feeling this way once before, back at the prison. The same feverish heat seemed to beat at her skin, longing to get out. She supposed that's why she'd been trying to ignore it.

 _It's not that, you paranoid idiot. Hershel cured you._

Yes, Hershel had cured her, but... Viruses could mutate, couldn't they? And she had...

Her heart stopped.

She had gotten walker blood in her mouth.

Yesterday, fighting her way through the blizzard. She had swallowed it, she had _tasted_ it, though they'd been so close to death she hadn't given it a second thought. But that was how they'd gotten it at the prison. The walkers had given it to the pigs and the pigs had given it to them.

Her hand flew to her lips, as though she could still somehow wipe it away. But she was already sick, she was already sick-

 _Calm. The fuck. Down._

Seriously. Abraham was right, she was a drama queen.

When her cup was empty, Eugene refilled it and handed her some of the hazelnuts- more than half, she noted with irritation. But before she could insist he split them evenly, the sound of something approaching through the snow caught their attention.

Eugene sighed, reaching for his machete. "I got it."

"I'll come with-"

"Stay here, sickie, I've got this handled."

"But-"

"Stuff your mouth with nuts."

Eugene left while she was snorting with laughter, and a moment later she heard him dismembering walkers. Quite a few of them, from the sound of it. She spent all of ten seconds listening, munching on hazelnuts, before she scrambled to her feet to help him.

She swooned. Her ears rang as though she'd somehow risen to a new altitude. The can nearly slipped from her fingers. Clumsily she set it on the ground, exchanging it for her fire poker and her better sense for stubbornness.

She stumbled out into the open, her eyes falling immediately on Eugene, who stood his ground against a growing herd of walkers. There were easily twenty that surrounded him, but many more were filing in from the distance, alerted by the sound of the others. Frost-bitten, kissed by icicles, they were almost beautiful. But her skin crawled with horror to think that they had been among so many without knowing it, had traveled in the very heart of the herd without any awareness at all.

" _Fuck_."

She cleared a quick path to Eugene, who, when he saw her, ground his jaw in frustration.

"I thought I told you to stay put."

"Since when are you the boss of me? Besides, I'm not satisfied with nuts unless they're yours."

Mason fell easily into step at his side. But her muscles barked a protest as she swung the iron, straining with heat as though her blood were boiling.

"Unusual compliments aside, Mason, I really think you should sit this one out," Eugene replied. His face was set in that grim, icy mask she'd grown familiar to. Like he fully intended to take them all by himself even though they just kept coming.

 _Where the fuck are they all coming from?_

"I thought you said we needed to be smart- shit!"

One of the walkers close to Eugene was spraying blood from a broken jugular. But it was its eyes, bulging and black and trailing blood, that sent panic arrowing through Mason's gut.

Infected. It was infected.

She lunged before Eugene could drive his machete home, whirling him roughly away and sending them both to the forest floor. She covered his body with hers just in time to feel rancid blood splatter the back of her neck.

Eugene blinked up at her. "Mason, what's-"

But she was already scrambling to her feet, dragging him with her. "Move, move! They're infected."

They barreled quickly back into their nook, no longer bothering to keep the walls standing. Mason's pulse pounded while they gathered up their things. The pressure in her head was phenomenal.

Something hot dripped from her nose to her lip. Copper and salt.

 _No please not now please not now_

"What do you mean they're infected?" Eugene said. "With what and how can you tell?"

"It's a...it's a flu. It ramps up your blood pressure until you pop, basically. Some of the walkers out there, their eyes were bleeding."

"You've seen this before."

She had her face turned away, but she could feel his eyes on her. The walkers were closing in fast. There was no time, no way to hide.

She didn't wipe away the blood before she looked at him.

"I've had it before."

Eugene paled.

"Shit, Mason."

But then the walkers were crashing through the trees, tearing down the snow walls of their nook. Eugene grabbed her hand and they took off running.

She stumbled as they made their escape. Her legs felt leaden, like the iron in her blood had decided to coalesce. Her brain throbbed. It seemed like she could feel her blood sloshing around in her skull and the notion turned her stomach.

The dull pains that had hounded her all day became much more intense. It was as though the sudden movement had spurred along her worsening symptoms.

When they were some distance away, she pulled to a stop. "Where are we even going?" she panted. "We can't just run."

"That road we saw," Eugene replied. While they were out scavenging, they'd come across a dirt road snaking through the woods. Badly overgrown, it had led directly up the mountain. "It may lead to shelter."

Mason bit her lip. Every step was taking them further and further from their people...

But Eugene knew that, too. And his expression was unyielding.

"We need to treat you. We can't do it out here."

Certainly not with walkers breathing down their necks. Mason glanced back at the approaching herd. Their steady, relentless pace would tire her out eventually, and she had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that she didn't feel in any shape to take them all down. It wouldn't be like the night of their escape from the Saviors. They were weaker now.

So she nodded and started running again, though her muscles ached in protest. Eugene kept pace beside her, catching her when she faltered. It didn't take them long to rediscover the road, thin and tangled with foliage. And she might've been alright, might've been able to go on for longer than she anticipated.

Until they started ascending.

The climb turned steep abruptly and her lungs tightened with every breath. Her nose leaked blood intermittently. She became accustomed to the taste of it.

"This virus must be hella aggressive," she puffed. "It came on quicker than the last time."

"Somehow that does not make me feel better," Eugene growled.

"I just thought you might be interested, being a biochemistry nerd and all that."

He threw her a sidelong glance that was half-amusement, half-chagrin.

"Well, since you're not in a petri dish and I'm not in a lab coat, why don't we pretend I'm just a regular nerd."

"That shouldn't be difficult."

Most of the climb, however, she spent concentrating on breathing. Her blood burned. Her throat was so raw she thought it might be bleeding. Sweat coated her body and even the brisk temperature could not cool her down.

The walkers followed relentlessly. She thought the incline might have deterred them but whenever she looked over her shoulder there they were, made more horrifying by the fact that many of them were now stalking them on all fours.

She lost track of how long they fled.

The sun moved across the cold, unforgiving sky and her thoughts began to swim.

 _Keep going. Keep going._

But she could no longer run. Her veins were pinching at the seams, so thick with feverish blood she was sure she had already hemorrhaged somewhere. Frequently she was overcome by the urge to stop and examine her body for bruises, any evidence of internal bleeding. Her stomach turned and turned.

At some point her knees buckled, and she braced herself against a tree to keep from collapsing.

"Hey." Eugene wrapped an arm around her waist. "Hey, it's okay. I'll help you. Can you move?"

She thought she might have nodded, but everything was bleary. "I'm okay, I'm sorry, I just-" She broke off as a round of violent coughs seized her. Feebly she tried to push Eugene away.

"You shouldn't...I'm contagious."

"I don't give a shit." He bent down to scoop up a handful of snow. "Here. This will hydrate you, and it might bring down your fever a degree or two."

Mason consumed a few mouthfuls before glancing up the mountain, where the road disappeared amid the trees. "What if we don't find anything?" she said.

"All roads lead somewhere eventually," Eugene said. "Given this one's clandestine appearance I'd venture a guess that it was once a private road, and likely leads to a private residence. But if we find nothing..." He trailed off. Briefly his eyes closed and she saw in that moment how much it took to hold himself together. "There are herbs, winter plants. Holistic remedies and such. We will hunker down somewhere safe and we will close the door on this flu business, I promise you. We will need to lose these ghosts somehow, maybe I could lead them away..."

"No," Mason said. "We'll figure something out, but...I think you're right. It's gonna be five times harder for me to get better out here. Plus any house we find might have food or weapons."

It was just like the good old days, she realized wryly. Why did it always come back to this? Fighting and scavenging out on the road, gambling maybe's against possibly's, accepting general unpleasantness not just as the norm but as _luck_?

"Hoo boy, I'm sick of this shit," she said.

Eugene loosed a breath. "I have never identified with any other statement on such a molecular level."

With one arm around her, he let her lean on him as they resumed their climb. The walkers scrambled on all fours behind them, fogging the air with their snarls. She concentrated solely on the next step, and the next, and the next. She didn't think about the chafing in her throat, the angry thump of her heart- which seemed to be thrumming entirely too fast.

 _You can do this. You can keep going._

But she couldn't. She couldn't.

Everything was painful, every movement, every breath, the breeze kissing her face, the sunlight, the way her bones fit together. She was sluggish and clumsy and too scorching for this world. She was a fire that couldn't exist without destroying itself...

"Hey. Hey!" Eugene urged, shaking her gently. "You with me?"

She nodded. Sweat trickled into her eyes.

"Good, because I need you to answer a very pressing question, one that I have sought the answer to for years."

Baffled, she blinked at him. He offered up an earnest grin.

"If I were one of the Avengers, which would I be?"

Trying to keep her awake, alert. That was what he was doing. She snorted weakly.

"Spiderman," she said. "Awkward and nerdy-"

"Excuse me?"

"-but with a heart of gold." She smirked. "Who am I?"

"It's a toss-up. Scarlet Witch or Hawkeye."

"Explain your reasoning."

"Well, Scarlet Witch is odd-"

" _Excuse_ me?"

"-but she is driven by justice and the drive to protect her loved ones. And Hawkeye is snarky and resilient, but at the end of the day all he wants is a peaceful life with his family."

Mason sniffed. "Well. Fine."

His technique was working, she realized, but only barely. In a soft, strained voice, she added, "Keep talking."

Eugene gave her a small nod but thankfully did not acknowledge the desperation in her tone. "I also think that if you were a slasher villain you would be Freddy Krueger, because he started off intimidating but as the movies progressed he was revealed to be the kind of dream demon that made puns about the people he was murdering."

"I am a slut for puns," Mason wheezed. "But I always identified with Ghostface. From _Scream_ , you know. I think I'm hilarious, I'm obsessed with scary movies and I'm just a tidbit off balance."

"Alright, touché."

"I see _you_ as a gremlin."

"Wait, what?" Eugene turned briefly to give her a look of genuine shock, and she almost giggled. "Why?"

"Because you look all cute and harmless on the outside...but given the proper motivation you turn into an evil, equally cute goblin of destruction."

"I truly do not know whether to be flattered or offended."

Mason opened her mouth to reply, but winced at a particularly vicious stab of pain behind her eyes. She pinched her the bridge of her nose until it passed.

"Keep talking," she pleaded. "Keep talking."

"If I were a fruit, what would I be?"

Mason peered at him and he coughed sheepishly.

"I took a lot of Buzzfeed quizzes."

Minutes passed, minutes that felt like goddamn years, and he distracted her with What Am I's and Would You Rather's. But the walkers kept coming, and her cells kept burning. Everything was too close. Everything was relentless.

Everything was blurry and...tinted pink...

She rubbed at her eyes.

Her fingers came away glistening with bloody tears.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed shakily. The world tilted at the wrong angle. She felt seasick. Her stomach heaved.

She fell to her knees and vomited blood.

Eugene shouted her name but she barely heard him over the ringing in her ears. Her heart was a thunder in every inch of her. The woods were dissolving around her, the world was crumbling to nothing...

And the voices. God, the _voices._ They just wouldn't let her be.

They crowded her, calling her name, electric with urgency.

But she couldn't answer them. She was drowning in her own body.

 **Eugene**

Panic made his hands shake, but the moment Mason collapsed he wasted no time. Painfully conscious of the walkers spidering up the slope behind him, he scooped Mason into his arms and began to run.

Each step quickly became a struggle, each breath ravaged him. The cold air was a knife, scraping his throat raw. The path seemed to get steeper and steeper as his dismay grew.

But he didn't stop.

He would not lose her here. Not like this, not when they had just broken free.

His gaze flickered continually to her, but her bleeding eyes pinwheeled sightlessly, her mouth moving occasionally, saying things he couldn't make out. She was so pale. So hot in his arms, like a spark. There was blood leaking from her nose, blood leaking from her ears and her mouth.

Blood everywhere.

Up ahead, several fallen trees lay across the road, hiding the rest of it from sight.

Deliberate, he realized. Some kind of attempt to deter traffic. So someone had utilized this road after the Infection, but there was no telling if they were still alive.

His pulse spiked with hope, but only fleetingly. There might very well be some place on this road that could provide him the shelter and safety to heal Mason, but he needed to be there soon. He needed to be there _now_. He hadn't told Mason, hadn't wanted to worry her, but... As they'd climbed, he'd kept his eyes out for any sign of vegetation that might've proved useful. But the world was dead, beaten down by the harsh winter. With the horde in pursuit, the only option had been to gamble on the possibility of a house, a shack, _anything_ where people had once occupied.

In his head, he began listing all of the possible medication he could administer, all of the remedies he should look for so that he wouldn't spend a second running around aimlessly.

He didn't let himself think of anything else. Not the other possibility.

Mason clutched the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder, whispering things perhaps only the walkers could understand.

 **Mason**

She was swimming. Her body was afloat on the current of some greater wave, that swept her up, up, into a place where her bones dissolved.

She _was_ the water. She was heat rain snowmelt sunlight she was

Dying.

That was it, right? She was dying. Some rational part of her still held her like a tether, and this part of her kept track of each breath she took

(like inhaling fire)

each blink of swollen eyes

(like weeping molten roses)

each mouthful of blood she swallowed

(like sipping the sea).

And what a vicious flu this was. What an absolute _prick_ of a virus.

It had come on so fast. Faster than last time...back at the prison...

The world flashed past as she was carried...borne on an ocean swell or the snug cradle of Eugene's arms, she couldn't tell which... The world flashed past and sometimes it was the snowbound mountainside and sometimes it was the lush greenery of Georgia.

And the walkers were still coming, but dotted within them, blooming within their ranks...

Hershel, and Glenn, and Merle, and T-Dog, and Bob, and...

Everyone.

"The spirits," she whispered, out loud or maybe in a dream.

They smiled at her, all shining faces amid the putrid decay of the dead. And they called her name. And she wanted to go to them.

They were so beautiful. So bright. She wanted to become a part of that laughing brightness, that pure and unending _starlight_ -

"No, Mason," Beth said. From far away. From not very far at all.

Mason clutched the back of Eugene's neck and strained to peer over his shoulder.

Beth was there, looking so real it hurt, and her eyes were wide and earnest and sad. When Mason met her gaze, she shook her head.

"It's not time yet," she said. "You need to keep breathin'."

"I'm..."

The words caught in Mason's throat. She blinked tears from her vision. Her heart was igniting in a pyre.

"I'm so tired."

"I know."

The look of knowing sorrow, like Beth knew every inch of Mason's anguish and felt it just as keenly... It took Mason's breath away.

"But you have to keep goin'," Beth continued. "You still have a job to do."

"We all have jobs..." Mason mumbled.

"Yes."

Her breathing stopped.

The voice was not Beth's. Beth was gone, just like that, and the others, too. And in their place, there stood Wolves with dismembered limbs and cannibals with bloody jaws, the Governor with his soldiers and all the Saviors she had ever ended.

The voice was them, all of them at once, and they were not smiling at her but they were baring their teeth for the kill.

Terror split her in two. Her heart slammed into her rib cage. The heat...the heat was too much, it was driving the breath from her lungs, and the voices wouldn't stop and she was bursting she was burning she was imploding like a dying star _._

 **Eugene**

There was a moment, just one, in which Mason went rigid in his arms. It was so sudden and so startling that he stopped to examine her, and before he could say anything, before he could choke out her name, her eyes rolled back to show their whites and she began to convulse.

There was not a name for the fear that iced his veins, not an appropriate definition. He stood in that singular moment, gaping and horrified, while she shuddered uncontrollably, spattering his face with blood.

 _Break the fever._

The thought broke him from his trance and he leapt into movement, panic propelling him. His thoughts sharpened, quickened. Calculating. Up ahead, a shallow stream, the ice broken open by passing fauna. The walkers behind him were maybe five yards away.

They were not going to make it to any house, if there even was one. He needed to act now.

"Okay, sweetheart, it's okay. I got you," he said, though he doubted Mason heard him.

When he reached the stream, he threw himself to his knees, nearly skidding in himself in his haste. Mason's arms were a vise around him. Gently he pried her away and, murmuring her name, murmuring fervent sorry's, he plunged her into the water.

Her gasp shattered everything. The convulsions grew more violent, and then tapered off. He held her in only long enough to cool her down, and then he rested her feeble frame on the bank.

"Stay with me, May, please." He kissed her forehead and drew his weapon. "I love you. I'll be right back."

 **Mason**

She was barely conscious. Through her blurry vision she caught glimpses of Eugene, the glint of his machete, of him rushing off to confront the walkers. Beside her, the stream chattered over rocks.

Even in her meager state she knew it was the only thing that had saved her. Another desperate gamble he had taken to keep her alive.

It was a few seconds before she registered the shadows in her peripheral vision, approaching from the other side of the stream. She tried to turn her head but could manage only the weakest of twitches. She tried to call a warning to Eugene but could barely open her mouth.

 _It's the spirits,_ she told herself. _It's only in your mind._

She lay there and struggled just to hang on. To _stay_.

 **Eugene**

There were too many. He knew that from the start. Wherever they had come from, there were more in this herd than the one they'd fought the night of their escape.

But he could not stop thinking of Mason, of what she said.

Of dying together, and not lying down.

 _There are worse things than death. I thought you knew that by now._

He did.

The walkers surrounded him, spraying their black blood into winter white, coating him with their sickness. The love of his life lay staining ice and stone with her blood. Had he ever been afraid of death? What a fucking stupid thing to fear.

And then there came the point when he could no longer move, there were so many of them. Shackling his arms and legs, choking him with their sepulcher stench, their snapping jaws closing in and-

A ferocious battle cry rent the air and a figure appeared beside him, bowling down a pocket of the dead.

For a wild second, he thought it was Mason, that she had made some sort of miraculous recovery. But then he caught sight of the figure, a willowy black woman wielding a bright red fire hatchet. And behind her, a short, sandy-haired man with a machete, and an imposing linebacker of a man swinging a-

Swinging a baseball bat.

Eugene flinched from him, even though he knew it wasn't Negan. This man was copiously freckled with hair more artfully gelled than an apocalypse allowed. The baseball bat was just a baseball bat. No barbed wire.

The newcomers, all of them with rags tied over their mouths, whirled around him, cutting a notch out of the walkers. When there was just enough space to escape, they retreated.

"Come on!" the woman shouted.

It made him feel strangely numb, staggering out of the horde, but then he saw the woman kneel at Mason's side and the numbness dissipated. He rushed toward them, but the woman swept Mason into her arms before he reached them.

"I got her," the woman said.

Mistrust flickered in his belly, but he told himself that was ridiculous. These people had just risked their lives to save him. Besides, what other options did he have at this point?

The shorter man elbowed him. "Come with us," he said. "We can help her."

He had no choice but to follow.

 **Mason**

She had the vague sense of being lifted, but the arms that held her were all wrong. Not Eugene. Where was he? _Where was he_? She tried to say his name but the whisper fell short of her lips.

Who was carrying her? Was it the spirits?

Anxiety coursed through her. Had she let go? _Fuck_. How could she do that to Eugene?

But...no. There was too much pain. This couldn't be...whatever there was after.

And then she saw him trailing after her mysterious bearer, the hazy shape of him that called to her like the light never could. Suddenly she found enough strength to reach for him and wail for him.

" _Eugene_!"

But there were two figures holding him back and he couldn't reach her and whoever was carrying her was carrying her into darkness.

 **Alpha**

She thought at first that the desk lamp was the moon.

She thought at first that she was lying on the floor of a dark cave and that, somehow, the moon had defied the laws of physics just to watch her open her eyes.

It took her a very long time to figure out that she was not lying on a floor at all, and definitely not in a cave. She was stretched out on a metal table- an operating table. She was stretched out on an operating table in a dark room, and the moon was not a moon at all but a fluorescent bulb.

She struggled to remember how she'd gotten there, but came up blank. Her memory was a miasma. Blood, shadow, blood. She remembered staggering from walker to walker along the deadwall, snipping them from from their leashes. She remembered stumbling away into the forest before anyone found her, but after that...

Irritation stirred her stomach. All that work. _All that work_ and she didn't even know how it all had ended.

She tried to sit up, but when she moved the whole room lurched.

"Oh, you'll be too weak to do any of that for a while yet."

Instinct had her reaching for a weapon and then, finding none, baring her teeth like a rabid dog in the direction the voice had come from.

When she saw the owner of the voice, however, she blanched in surprise.

He was frightfully skinny and frightfully old. It looked as though a single breath could blow him over. His eyebrows were bushy and as wild as his graying shrub of hair, and his eyes were so brown they were nearly black.

They reminded her, painfully, of Feral's eyes.

Mercifully, that was where the resemblance ended. There was nothing wild about him- save that damn hair- and certainly nothing strong.

He held up his hands in surrender as though she were going to attack him, though he obviously knew there would be none of that.

"Please...please don't be alarmed, miss. Wouldn't want you to suffer a heart attack after crawling out of the grave."

Alpha glared at him for a long while, refusing to relax even though her limbs trembled. The man's earnest expression quickly became nervous.

"You- you lost a lot of blood. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to save you," he said.

"How did you?" she demanded. Though her voice was low and rough from disuse, there was no mistaking the threat in it.

"Well, I- I'm a doctor. A hematologist, funnily enough."

"And you just rescue strange almost-corpses out of the kindness of your heart."

"Not really. Not anymore," the man confessed. Shyly, like he was embarrassed. "It's more of a...habit, I suppose."

The furrow between her brows deepened. "Why?"

"Well..." The man finally lowered his hands, though he did not take a step closer. Smart of him. "Back when all of this was still a nightmare we thought we'd wake up from, I was looking for a cure."

"There is no cure," Alpha said flatly.

The man let out an unexpected hoot of laughter. "Of course not," he said. "Least, not one that's any use to anybody."

She stiffened. This man had to be crazy to think that there was any kind of remedy, anything at all that could bring the world back from this. And she had to admit that she had no interest at all in returning to the old world.

She belonged here. She was born for the apocalypse.

Still, she had never been able to help her own curiosity.

"So what is the cure?" she rasped in a voice dripping with irony.

And she knew he was indeed crazy, knew he had been cracked by the world, when he raised his eyebrows and said, "The cure is death."

NOTE: So, I just wanted to let you guys know that, yes, I will be introducing some new characters in the mix, but not like a ridiculous amount. Part of the reason I think I was so thrown off by S7 and S8 was because of how many new characters they introduced all at once. It was just very jarring, at least to me. I don't intend to overwhelm ya'll, just thought I'd give you a head's up. Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Much love.


	5. World is Ending

Okay, so I'm back with a chapter that took longer than expected because it turned out longer than expected. Honestly I thought at first it was going to be half the size but then it bloated and yeah. Lol I'm really hoping it's not horrible or anything, this is the chapter where we meet the new characters and I'm probably not the only one who sees new characters and just automatically shuns them because, you know, _new_. Or maybe I am, idk. Anyway! Today's chapter is "World is Ending" by Matt and Kim, quite possibly the cutest musical duo to ever grace the industry. As always, I want to send out a super huge thank you for the reviews and support, it really means everything to me. Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think!

5\. World is Ending

 **Eugene**

"You're lucky as hell she didn't give it to you."

"Given the fact that she didn't, I see no reason why she should be quarantined from me."

"I told you before, it's precaution. Don't look at me like that. You have no fucking clue what that virus did to us."

"You will not keep me from her. I think I have been more than patient up until now."

"Hey, champ, you wanna listen to Renee? We saved _your_ ass, we don't owe you shit."

"Tanner. Take your hand off of my arm right now, or I will remove it."

"Ooh, yeah, tough guy, you're real fuckin' scary. Why don't you back your yokel ass off before I lose my cool."

"I most certainly will not. Now get out of my damn way."

 **Mason**

She didn't wake slowly. Her eyes opened like a snap of lightning, and despite her blurred vision she did not feel groggy. Rather she felt sick and stinging, the same way she did when a loud noise startled her from sleep.

Her nerves hummed with restless energy.

Something wasn't right.

She laid where she was for several moments. Wherever the hell she was. The ceiling she was staring at was made of stone, but there were fluorescent lights hanging from it.

And her body...

Her whole body was one big, exhausting ache, bound by the deep discomfort siphoning strength from her muscles. Could she even move? She was half afraid to try in case she couldn't.

But she was alive. Somehow.

"Eugene?" she whispered.

Something clinked off to her right, but there was no reply. She sat still, listening, while the hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck stood on end.

"Eugene...?"

The clinking sounded again. Slowly she turned to look, taking in her surroundings as she did.

She was lying on a hospital bed in what looked to be a cave. The walls were stone tile, the floor cement, but the ceiling was natural rock, as though someone had lost patience halfway through fabricating whatever this room was supposed to be. There were four other hospital beds on her right, all of them empty save for the one on the end. The person lying in it did not move at first, but their skin was waxen and gray.

Gray as death.

Mason held her breath for an endless second, agonizingly conscious of her fingers, trembling and pale, and the fact that they probably could not hold a weapon.

The figure moved, turned its head in her direction to spear her with its black, lifeless eyes.

"Fuck," she breathed.

It rose from the bed with a vicious snarl, ripping free from the IV in its arm. The fluid bag toppled to the floor as the walker lurched to its feet.

Mason tried to sit up, but it was a slogging effort. A wave of dizziness spun her brain like a top. She moved so slowly that the walker crossed half the distance between them before she managed to roll herself off of the bed.

The IV attached to her arm came with her as she tumbled to the floor. She hit the concrete hard. Pain barked up her shoulder but she forced herself to move, kicking and clawing and praying some semblance of strength would return to her.

The walker shambled eagerly after her, so fresh that its features had not yet been completely distorted. Breathing heavily, Mason cast about for some kind of weapon but there was nothing, least not that she could use in her weakened state. The IV tangled around her as she scrambled back. Impatiently she yanked it from her arm.

She tried to call for Eugene but her voice refused to cooperate. All that came out was a desperate croak.

Movement on her left caught her eye.

Her lungs constricted with terror when she saw the other walker rise from its hospital bed, stirred by the sound. She hadn't noticed it before, hadn't been thinking clearly enough to scope out the entire room, but she knew it right then that she was screwed.

The first walker was nearly on top of her when her back hit the wall. There was nowhere to run, nothing to use as a weapon, except...

The wall.

Brandishing all of the strength she could muster, she braced herself against the stone and kicked the walker in the leg. Its bone snapped in two and sent the walker to the floor, almost right into her lap. She yanked her leg back before its snapping teeth could land their blow, and already her head was swimming with exhaustion but she had to move, she had to move.

Again she used the wall to steady herself as she brought her boot down on the walker's head. Her heel cracked its skull open on the concrete. Blood splashed her face.

Wasting no time, she reached for the walker's leg, slamming it several times against the wall to complete the break. Mason's heart pounded, faintness tingling in her veins. The second walker was closing in quickly but she couldn't let that distract her. Once the lower half of the bone was completely severed, she yanked the skin back on the damaged end, just far enough to reveal a jagged white point.

Slick with blood, she slithered to her feet. Air rushed in and out of her lungs but it never felt like it was enough to fill them. She felt like a smog, thick, grimy and sluggish, but she stumbled forward to meet the walker before it could corner her.

Gnashing its teeth, it raveled its fingers in the collar of her shirt. Mason glared grimly into its eyes, which were focused on the pulse point in her neck, and raised her makeshift spear. But she underestimated her own flimsiness. As the walker leaned its full weight against her, she tipped backwards, thrown off balance, and collapsed with it on top of her.

Its teeth brushed her ear.

It was only luck- wild, blind luck- that kept them from sinking in.

" _Shit_ ," she hissed, wrestling frantically to keep it at bay by inches. It pawed at her shirt, ripping one of the sleeves at the shoulder. Its sludgy eyes dripped black tears onto her chest.

Digging into the last reserves of her strength, Mason yanked her arm out from under the walker's weight. The bone spear was savagely white against the unearthly, brooding red of dead blood.

She drove it straight into the walker's ear.

It leaned over her for a moment, twitching and shuddering like it was trying to resist its final death. But when Mason pulled the bone from its skull, it slumped as though she had extracted the last of its vitality, as well.

She laid there for a moment, gasping for breath while the walker bled on her, and stared at the whirling fluorescents above. But after a while, through the ringing in her ears, she registered the sound of voices upraised in dispute.

When she recognized Eugene's, her veins thrilled with electricity.

It took her several tries, but eventually she was able to kick and roll and squirm out from under the corpse, albeit with less dignity than she'd started with.

The room rushed away when she stood. She wilted against the wall and waited with her head in one hand for the wooziness to fade. Slowly, as her vision returned, she examined the rest of the room. Or, more accurately, antechamber. The whole thing was long but not terribly large, and on either end was a thick wooden door. She listened closely for the voices, for Eugene's voice, and heard them a moment later, coming from the left.

With the bone spear hanging loosely in her grip, she staggered to the door.

 **Eugene**

Physically, Tanner was so like a young Abraham that it hurt. Freckled, red-haired, with an unyielding face and muscled frame.

Eugene didn't like him.

From the moment they'd met, Tanner had proved himself to be difficult, arrogant and narrow-minded. Yet the others had claimed him their unofficial leader, despite Renee's extensive qualifications. Eugene had been with them for two days and already he was ready to stage a coup.

Facing him now, Eugene could barely refrain from decking him in his sneering face.

"I am not feeling generous enough to ask again," Eugene said, his voice so frigid he barely recognized it. "As a matter of fact, I reckon you should thank me for not knocking you on your ass."

Tanner's nostrils flared, making him look for all the world like an angry bull. He drew himself up to his full height and stalked forward until he stood nose to nose with Eugene.

"You wanna say that again?"

Eugene cocked his head. "Did I underestimate your limited grasp on the English vocabulary? I said thank me and get the fuck out of my way."

" _Yo_ _u pussy-ass mother_ -"

"Guys!"

Renee pushed herself between them with an impatient glare.

"Both of you, shut the hell up. You can measure your dicks later but I don't have time to play referee. I need to see my patients."

"That makes two of us," Eugene growled.

Renee speared him with a look that was both sympathetic and adamant. "Eugene, I'm sorry, I really do get it. But I can't just let you-"

"Eugene..."

The breath caught in his throat.

 _Mason._

Heart fluttering unevenly, he started forward, pushing past Tanner and Renee, who were too shocked to stop him.

And there she was, sallow and ragged and grimy with blood, holding the jagged stump of someone's lower leg like it was a weapon. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of him. She trembled and he held out his arms.

"Angel," he whispered.

She fell into his embrace.

 **Mason**

He was here. He was alright. For a moment that was all she could think of.

Then her knees began to shake and all she could think was that she was going to pass out.

"It's alright." Eugene brushed his fingers through her sweat-damp hair. "I've got you."

"Good thing," she murmured shakily. "I'd estimate I have about the strength of a plastic bag."

He smiled a little, though his expression was strained with worry. "By plastic bag do you mean the drifting through the wind type? Or the wanting to start again type?"

"Are you...did you just make a Katy Perry reference? _Lame_."

"That song is on _your_ iPod."

"I never said I wasn't lame."

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and Mason went rigid.

Reaffirming her grip on the walker leg, she peered around Eugene to take in the two people in the room with them. Or, rather, the two people in the _cave_ with them. That was really all it was, the same cement floors and stone walls and fluorescent lights as the antechamber she'd woken up in. The only significant difference was the size, which was five times larger.

And, of course, the fact that the people in _this_ room were still alive.

Her attention went first to the man, whose imposing figure set her nerves on edge. However even as she bristled defensively, she could not help thinking of Abraham, who had also been red-haired and well-muscled and suspicious when he'd first met her.

After sizing up this obvious threat, her eyes flickered to the woman. She was lean but not without muscle; Mason could tell simply by the way she held herself that she was a fighter. She was also distractingly beautiful, with a riot of curls and dark, steadfast eyes. Where the man was just another fire, the woman was enduring and calculated. Mason trusted her even less.

Eugene kept a steadying grip on her as he turned to face them, too. There was a warning in his frown but, she realized after a moment, it wasn't for her. The strangers were keeping a curious distance, eyeing her like a feral dog. She thought at first it was because of her leg weapon until she remembered that she'd almost bled to death quite violently from a highly contagious virus. Right. Of course.

"Mason, this is Tanner and Renee," he said, pointing to the man and woman in turn. "They aided us out in the woods, though I doubt if you remember that."

" _Aided_ you?" Tanner snorted. "Prick, you would be _dead_ if it weren't for us."

Mason's lips curled in the beginning of a snarl. "Is that the only reason you help people?" she rasped. "As an excuse to be a total douche?"

Tanner's eyes gleamed, like he was sizing up a particularly delicious meal. "So you've got a mouth on you, too, huh?"

He tensed, like he wanted to step toward her but didn't quite dare, and Eugene edged defensively between them. She glared out from around his arm, refusing to be cowed despite Tanner's size and her own pitiful condition.

"Tanner," Renee said sharply. "Could you stop being a fucking idiot for five seconds?"

"Oh, _I'm_ the idiot? That's hilarious. Who said we should help these losers in the first place? Look what they turned out to be. Ungrateful, know-it-all shit smears."

 _Shit smear. Goddammit, that's a good one._

Mason stiffened, but she did not get a chance to dwell on the fact that she'd once again heard Abraham in her head.

"Well maybe they're only acting that way because you intimidate them," Renee said.

"I'm not intimidated," Mason growled.

Renee threw her an exasperated glance and she realized belatedly that she was supposed to play along. Tanner, however, didn't seem to notice. His brows were furrowed like he was puzzling through a difficult math equation.

Mason stared in disbelief. _Is he actually buying that intimidation crap? What kind of cocky bastard..._

 _Shit smear, Mason. Shit smear._

 _Whatever._

Finally Tanner nodded. "Yeah, alright."

 _Oh my fucking god..._

"It doesn't excuse their behavior but I guess I'll let it slide."

Mason wrinkled her nose. He spoke with the air of someone who was not confident at all in his position, and so pretended he was the most confident fucker on the planet. He sounded like a kid playing at president.

From the tightness in Eugene's expression, she wasn't the only one who thought so. But neither of them said anything as Renee stepped cautiously forward, extending a hand in Mason's direction.

"C'mon, we need to get you back to the infirmary. Um. Who's that from?"

Mason glanced down at the foot in her hand. "I didn't catch his name."

"Is he dead?"

"They both are."

Eugene's fingers tightened around her arm. She could see the effort it took to reign in his anger- not at her, she knew, but at the fact that she had been left alone.

Briefly, Renee's face pinched with grief and guilt. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to do that. We'll clean the infirmary immediately so I can get back to treating you."

Mason went still. "And how long will that take?"

"Well, that depends. I'm gonna need to get you on some supplements right away, and a regimen of iron-rich foods. You lost about a pint of blood- not terrible in and of itself, that's about as much as people used to give when they donated. But coupled with the fact that...well, Eugene said you two fell on some shit times recently. Coupled with that, it will take longer to recover than it normally would. Probably more than a week."

Urgency made itself known in her belly like an ulcer. "Is there no way to speed up that process?"

Renee frowned. "It's all I can do to heal you with the resources I have- which are pretty damn limited, just so you know. Look, could we put a pause on this conversation? You're probably still pretty contagious and I can't risk you getting...getting the rest of us sick."

The way she said it, the jagged edge snagging her words, punched Mason in the chest. Her mind flooded with images of the prison, of her people screaming as the reanimated corpses ate them in their sleep, of Sasha and Hershel administering oxygen, of death row spinning as she choked on her own blood.

"Right," she said quietly. "Right."

Renee turned her sharp gaze on Eugene. "You may as well stay out here with her while we clean."

He nodded brusquely. "I just want to go on record as stating that I will not be kept from her when she needs me again. Clearly I am well outside the danger zone of this flu, and frankly I wouldn't give two shits either way."

Neither Renee nor Tanner looked too pleased with his declaration, but they didn't argue as they tied rags over their noses and mouths and headed for the infirmary.

The moment they disappeared, all the strength drained out of Mason's legs. Eugene helped her to the floor, cradling her against his chest.

"Who are they?" she whispered.

"They don't have a name," he murmured.

"How many?"

"Now that the two from the infirmary are dead, six. Apparently there used to be quite a few but then this flu hit."

"What did you tell them?"

"That we lost our home and had to survive on the road for a while. I wanted to discuss with you how much of our hand we should reveal."

"Nothing." Her answer was prompt. Fierce. "We don't know these people, we can't trust them. We leave as soon as I'm strong enough."

Eugene frowned. "Mason, these people saved us."

" _And we don't know what their agenda is_."

Teeth bared, hair frizzed around her face, in that moment she knew she looked as terribly unhinged as she felt. But she couldn't stop seeing the Saviors forcing her people to their knees, the Governor with his tank, the box car where they had waited for cannibals to open the door.

Eugene pressed his forehead to hers, staring at her earnestly. "Not everyone has an agenda."

"That's bullshit," she hissed. "Everyone has an agenda, and part of that agenda is to survive by any means necessary. Don't tell me you were any different when you claimed to be a scientist."

"Was it survival, then, when you decided to save my life the day we met?" he replied quietly. "You could have left me to my fate once you saw that I wasn't one of your own, but you didn't."

Mason grimaced. "Just because I saved you didn't mean that I was a good person, and I'm sure you didn't trust me-"

"I did." The sincerity in his eyes put a lump in her throat. "I trusted you with my life because I knew you were a good person. You still are."

Reminding her. Reminding her of who she was. She was silent for a moment before the tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at her lips.

"And because you liked my ass."

"That was just a happy coincidence."

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not flattered but you were a damn idiot for trusting me so quickly. I could have saved you for any number of reasons and it's the same with these people. I can't trust them. Not yet."

"Then can I strike up a proposal?"

Mason said nothing, just raised an eyebrow expectantly.

" _Try_ ," he said. "Use this recovery time to your advantage. Feel them out, scrutinize, do whatever you have to to come to a decision. But I'm telling you I think we should try. Because I'm not sure if you've forgotten, but it's just us now, and Negan has a fucking army. We sure as hell can't take him down with-"

"Sharp buttons and hella confidence?" she offered.

Eugene smiled a little. "Not this time, sunshine."

"So you think these people could help us." She spoke so flatly that it didn't sound like a question.

"I am...weighing that option."

She sighed. "Alright. Fine. I'll try, but I ain't guaranteeing shit. If these people turn out to be of the undesirable sort, if they try to keep us- or _eat us_ \- I _will_ kill them."

"And I will be right there next to you with a gun. But until then-"

"Yeah, yeah. _Scrutinize_."

Eugene's grin widened with affection. "That's my little rage ball."

~m~

"Febrile seizures are incredibly rare in adults. They're usually only brought on by high temperatures in kids, but...this goddamn flu is a beast."

Mason watched silently as Renee bustled around her, adjusting the IV drip, taking her blood pressure, her temperature. She tried not to think of her mom, who had done the same things, and instead examined the way Renee spoke. So that, if she were ever to lie, Mason could pick the tell out of her features. Eugene was better at this, of course, but she knew a few tricks.

"Eugene did the right thing, dumping you in that stream," Renee continued, either oblivious to Mason's scrutiny or choosing to ignore it. "You probably would have died if he hadn't."

 _My own personal baptism,_ Mason thought wryly.

Glancing around the infirmary, she asked, "What is this place?"

"Like, this room? It was supposed to be a kind of mudroom between the house and the garage. That room where you found us, that's the garage. Or it was supposed to be, but my uncle never liked to finish anything that didn't directly fill his bank account."

Mason blinked. "Is this...are we inside the mountain?"

Renee smiled. "Partly," she said. "Half-in, half-out. Uncle Jerry was a show-off, but he also didn't really trust people. Totally the brag-and-run type. He built this house to retreat from civilization but also just to prove that he could, that he had the money to. When you're better I'll have to show you the rest of it or he'll start turning in his grave."

"How long have you and your people been here?"

"From the beginning. Jerry left this place to me when he died so when shit went down I came up here with all my friends and their families." She paused for a moment, her dark eyes like sink holes with remembering. "Our numbers hovered right around thirty for a while after shit hit...but- well, you know how it goes."

Mason swallowed, and tried not to sound too stiff as she said, "I'm sorry."

Renee offered up a shrug that Mason did not quite believe. "Nothing to be sorry for. Life's all about rolling with the punches. Decomps never changed that."

"Decomps?"

"The decomposed. What do you call them?"

"Walkers."

"Huh. That's pretty cool. We played around with blighters for a while but it just sounded too weird-"

"So you guys have never left," Mason interrupted flatly.

"Well, we've ranged down the mountain to look for supplies. But we started out with a pretty impressive cache to begin with so not often. Until recently, I mean."

"What changed?"

That piercing gaze speared her. "Are you gonna keep this up all night or do I get a chance to grill _you_?"

Mason narrowed her eyes. "I just want to know more about my-"

She choked off.

She'd almost said it. Almost said _saviors_.

Hastily she shook her head. "I just want to know more about the people who risked so much to rescue us. While we're here. I don't like to feel like I'm in the dark."

Renee watched her for a moment- appraising, just as much as Mason was.

"We don't hide who we are, Mason," she said. "We don't have any reason to anymore."

"So if I asked if you were cannibals I could trust that you would answer me honestly?"

There was a brief, stunned pause. And then Renee scrunched up her nose and smiled brightly.

"Hand to God," she said. "We're not cannibals. Now. Do you think you could keep down some food?"

As though awakened by the question, Mason's stomach growled loudly. She laid an impatient hand over it and nodded.

"I think so."

"Alright, sport. Be right back."

~m~

It was three more days before Mason was able to lift herself into a sitting position without the room spinning. Renee and Eugene were the only ones allowed in to see her, and Tanner, although he never did. She wasn't disappointed by this in the least. She'd gotten her read on him anyway.

The three days were enough to make her incredibly restless. Eugene spent as much time with her as he could, but she knew he, too, was scoping out the place and the four others she had yet to meet. She asked only for the basics about them, their names and what weapons they carried. She wanted to form her own opinions when she finally was introduced.

When Eugene wasn't there to keep her company, she listened to her iPod or read the books that Renee brought her. She slept only when she needed to. In her dreams the voices plagued her- sometimes those of the spirits, of the people she loved, and sometimes those of darker ghosts. Either option was unbearable.

She always tried to stay busy somehow, because when she wasn't... Sometimes those voices crept into the waking world.

She was going to need some serious sessions with Denise when all this was over.

Finally, on the fourth morning, Renee okayed her to leave the infirmary.

"We're going to take it slowly though," she said, handing Mason her lunch- black beans, walnuts and a cup of deer bone broth. Eugene had laughed the first time Renee had brought the food out. Of all the fucking things she had to eat, fucking _b_ _eans_? But Mason had swallowed her disgust- and the beans along with it- and she had to admit she did feel a lot better.

"No rigorous activity," she continued. "I'm afraid you can't do any steeplechasing or extreme paintballing anytime soon."

"There goes my weekend."

Renee's lips twitched. "You can, however, tour the house if you feel up to it. Meet the rest of the gang."

Mason tried not to look too eager. "Sounds doable."

"Alright, just...don't pick a fight with Tanner. As entertaining as it would be to watch you nail his balls to the wall, the effort would probably put you back in here. And I'm sure you're tired of counting the same tiles over and over."

"Well, you took away steeplechasing and extreme paintballing so you gotta let me have _something_."

"How about I let you have some ice cream in exchange for good behavior? I mean, not too much because you shouldn't take it with iron supplements, but..."

Mason blinked. "You have ice cream?"

Renee's eyes sparkled. "There's not much left, and I'll warn you- it tastes a little different. We made it from goat's milk."

"Um, you could have made it from fucking armadillo milk and I wouldn't care. Of courseI'd like some."

"Alright, but only if you're good."

"Renee, I'm not a child. Now why in the hell is my broth not in a sippy cup?"

She hated to admit it, but it was very easy to get along with Renee. She was a joker, once you got past the brisk, efficient exterior, and Mason had a feeling she was also a nerd, judging from the books she gave her to read. But...

But she just couldn't bring herself to _trust_ her. Not truly. There was just something in Mason, there was too much in her, and it was all a chaos she could not keep up with and she didn't think she was in any shape to trust anyone new.

Still. She had promised Eugene to try. And she knew he was right. They needed help, in some form or fashion. So after she had eaten her disgusting lunch, she followed Renee into the house.

It was...impressive, to say the least. All ornate wooden accents and odd, expensive angles. But everything was bursting with color, rich reds and golds and yellows, all so artfully displayed that it kept the claustrophobia at bay. On her left was a living room that at one point might have been lofty, but had been worn and cluttered by use. It was obviously the room where they spent the most time, and one glance at the far wall and she understood why.

It wasn't so much a wall at all as it was a tetris of windows, all of varying sizes and intersected with frames of dark wood. And the view...

The sky was an unfair shade of blue, so beautiful it didn't belong in the world. It softened the dark quilt of the forest, made what had seemed like such a cruel beast while they'd had to survive in it look welcoming, almost ethereal.

"You should see it at sunset," Renee murmured. "It doesn't even look real. Like we're in a painting or something."

"Hey, guys!"

Mason jumped, so startled by the bright exclamation that she realized she'd temporarily forgotten where she was. She'd been so distracted by the magnificent view that she hadn't noticed the group sitting in the living room.

One of them, a short young man with a sandy mop of hair, all but bounced toward them. Mason got a mental image of a golden retriever puppy as he extended a hand in her direction, beaming like he was finally meeting a celebrity or something. She tried not to recoil.

Eugene followed the stranger, examining Mason's face and immediately noting the tension in it.

"Dave Renner," the puppy man said. "Glad to see you're not on your death bed anymore."

She hesitated a beat too long to shake his hand, but he pretended not to notice.

"Uh. Hey. Mason Reynolds."

"Yeah, I know. Eugene's told us all about you. You fight with a fire poker? Aesthetically that is just. Fucking iconic."

She raised an eyebrow. "Did he?"

"I also told them that when motivated by the proper background music, you slaughter whole armies of cannibals with said fire poker," Eugene said, coming to stand by her side. Casually he slipped his hand through hers and her anxiety loosened its grip.

"He might've exaggerated a bit on the whole army thing... But the right music could motivate me to jump up and tit slap the moon," Mason said. Eugene pressed his face into her hair to hide his snort of laughter.

In her head, Abraham and Merle cackled.

But where she'd counted on Dave and Renee to look horrified or affronted, they laughed like she was the funniest thing in the world.

They laughed like her people had laughed once upon a time. In a prison. In a safe zone.

She was struck by a terrible feeling of unreality. She swallowed hard, crushing Eugene's hand in her grip.

With his nose still buried in her hair he breathed, too low for anyone else to catch, "I'm right here, May."

"So what kind of music were you playing during the cannibal massacre?" Dave asked. "I probably would have done something with a lot of heavy bass. We should do a music exchange sometime! I used to-"

"Hey. Dave." Renee threw him a meaningful look. "Let's not overwhelm our new friends, okay?"

Dave blinked, finally seeming to register the edge in Mason's expression. His face fell a bit. When he spoke again his voice was less high-pitched.

"Shit, I'm sorry. You...you're the first new people we've met since all this started and I sometimes...when I'm anxious I get kind of manic. I promise I'm not like this all the time."

Mason trained her expression into one of amused calm. "I get it. Anxiety makes you do weird shit sometimes. For a while, when I was in high school, if I was using the bathroom I had to stop and feel the wall to make sure it was real. I wanted to make sure I hadn't fallen asleep in class and dreamt it up."

She didn't know why she said it. It wasn't some deep, dark secret, of course, but she hadn't planned on telling these people _any_ of her secrets. There was just something so accessible about Dave, about the way he listened like everything anyone said was important. She decided then that if she couldn't trust any of the rest of them, she could trust him. But instead of feeling satisfied, the realization was like a stone in her belly.

Dave's eyes gleamed with relief and understanding. "I have this thing where if I'm deciding between two things- say, between two cups- I have to choose which one is good luck and which one is bad luck. And sometimes the answer's simple but sometimes it's not, so on bad days I can spend a good five minutes glaring at cups and whatnot. It sounds dumb, but now we're anxiety bros I don't feel dumb saying it."

Before Mason could reply, Renee nudged her gently. "Do you want to meet the others now? Or would you rather get your bearings first?"

Instinctively she glanced at Eugene, but he just raised an eyebrow, leaving the decision up to her.

"Um." She frowned at the floor. "Bearings first, I think."

A subtle movement caught her attention. Her eyes flickered to Eugene's free hand, poised in a silent signal.

 _Backup?_

She flashed an affirmative back at him. They'd gotten so good at making their movements clandestine that Dave and Renee never noticed the exchange.

Dave returned to the living room where the others waited and Renee led Mason and Eugene in the opposite direction. Mason took in everything, committing each corner and curve to memory just as she had at the compound. The house itself was ridiculous- six bedrooms and four baths and a kitchen even bigger than the living room. The opulence looked weary, however, from years of rigorous use. It wasn't like the way some of the houses had looked in Alexandria, no more than showrooms they'd kept dusted and decorated for the next recruits.

Eugene stayed right by her side the whole time, talking with Renee when Mason was too lost in her own thoughts to keep up a conversation. She wondered if he'd started drawing maps yet, if he'd cataloged all the exits, if he'd seen the armory. It would be so easy for these strangers to trap them under the mountain, to lock them in a room and never open the door except at mealtimes, to never let them hear another song except the same one over and over again...

 _Stop._

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady the uneven thumping of her heart.

 _This is not the compound. This is not the same._

And she would never allow herself to be locked in a cell again.

"At the start, nobody had their own space," Renee explained once they had seen everything. "Thirty-two of us crammed underneath a mountain, it was maddening. Now we each get our own room. And we don't know what the hell to do with them."

Mason blinked. They had felt the same way after joining Alexandria. Nothing had felt safe unless they were all together.

"Most nights we all sleep in the living room together."

The breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened around Eugene's, and he glanced at her like he knew exactly what she was remembering.

Renee shook her head, misreading their expressions. "But if you guys stay, you're welcome to whichever room makes you feel most comfortable. And Mason, I mean... If you're not up to meeting the others today, don't feel obligated to. They can wait. Being trapped under a mountain for two and a half years imbues a vast sense of patience."

Mason pretended not to hear the _if you stay_ part, and instead said, "Why are you trapped?"

Renee watched her for a moment, and Mason was sure she wasn't going to answer until she replied, "Maybe we can talk about it over ice cream."

~m~

It wasn't electricity that kept the ice cream and other perishables cold, but a freezer on the outside of the house.

"One of the benefits of living in the mountains," Renee explained. "We can put drinks in the streams and they're ice cold in, like, two minutes."

"Yeah, we didn't get that in Georgia," Mason said.

"You guys are from Georgia?"

"Well...not really, that's just where we met. Eugene's from Texas and I'm from Kansas."

Renee nodded. "I'm from California originally. Moved around a lot but that will always be home."

Mason didn't miss the pain in her voice but she didn't comment on it as they made their back way to the living room.

The others were waiting there just as Renee had said they would be. There was a skinny blonde woman with pink and green highlights and a nose ring. There was a lanky black man with sleeves of flower tattoos. There was a petite Asian woman with soft features and hard eyes. They all looked to be around Mason's age, somewhere in their twenties. She tried not to let the anxiety show on her face as they all looked up at her arrival and instead focused on the cold of the ice cream, seeping through the bowl and into her fingertips.

But then Dave smiled at her like he understood, and Tanner scowled in a way that had her steeling her spine and marching over to sit on the couch directly across from him. Smirking proudly, Eugene sat on her left. Renee perched on the armrest on Mason's right.

"Mason, I'd like you to meet my crew. That's Ashlee, Tanner's little sister." She pointed to the blonde woman, who waved awkwardly at Mason. Apparently Tanner had gotten every drop of the arrogant asshat gene.

Renee pointed next to the Asian woman. "That's Charlie. Don't let her quietness fool you. She will fuck you up if you give her a good enough reason."

Considering the granite glint in the woman's eyes, Mason didn't doubt it.

Lastly, she pointed to the flower man. "And that's Dray, our resident tattoo artist."

Dray offered Mason a gentle smile. "Hey, Mason."

"Hey," she replied quietly.

"Dray did all of our group tattoos," Renee said, holding up her wrist. The others did as well, exposing the little black arrows printed there.

"Did he do them _here_?"

"Yes, right after-" Renee broke off, her eyes flickering from face to face. Not in a way that made Mason suspicious but in a way that made her chest hurt. It was clear from their faces that the bond forged between these people was strong.

Tears pricked behind her eyes. She missed her family.

When Renee didn't continue, Tanner did for her.

"Right after half of our people were slaughtered by the wolves."

Mason and Eugene went rigid in unison, their fingers clenching painfully together.

"Tell me you mean wolves of the canine variety," Eugene breathed.

Tanner snorted. "If I did, buddy, there would be fifteen more people sitting here and they'd all be wearing fur coats."

Renee frowned at them. "Wait. Did you...do you know them?"

With a sidelong glance at Mason, Eugene said, "Our people killed them. Mason and I have our own tattoos to prove it."

In one synchronized movement, the two of them held up their arms to show their brutal Wolf scars.

The others sat back, eyes wide with awe and something like wariness. Even Tanner's face was pinched with new, albeit grudging, respect.

"So if you were able to take them down," Renee said slowly, "how in the hell were you driven from your home?"

Again, Mason and Eugene faced each other. She read everything he wasn't saying in his face- that he hadn't changed his mind, that he was hoping they could try, but that in the end, if she decided she couldn't, he was still with her. It was the two of them always until the end. She had never done anything to deserve his loyalty.

 _You can't do this alone and you know it._

Glenn's voice.

Her teeth ground together.

The truth was, though, he was right and Eugene was, too.

After a long pause, she turned back to Renee. "You said we'd talk over ice cream," she said and held up her bowl for emphasis. "And I asked you first."

Renee smiled thinly. "Decomps," she said. "The decomps are keeping us here. They came from a camp just down the mountain. Used to be an RV park but then when shit hit people turned it into a community. We traded with them sometimes but for the most part we stuck to our own."

"Their leader was a total dickmunch," Ashlee interjected, twirling a strand of faded green hair around her finger.

 _Kind of like your brother?_ Mason thought but didn't say.

"Yeah, he was," Renee said. "And now he's dead. The Wolves killed them all, left them to turn and used them to ambush us."

"A group of us went out to clear them, because they were scaring off all the prey. But it was a trap," Tanner said, with a hard glance in Renee's direction. "It shouldn't have gone down the way it did at all."

"But that's how it _did_ go down," Renee spat back. "We can't take it back."

Mason's gaze flicked between them, trying to decipher the tension thickening the air. Tanner blamed Renee for what happened, that much was clear, but why if he was the one in charge?

"Guys," Dave said quietly.

With obvious effort, Renee reeled in her temper. Tanner backed down less gracefully, letting out a derisive snort and glaring out the window wall.

"Tanner and Renee were the only survivors," Dave filled in. "They were able to lead the Wolves down the mountain and double back so that the rest of us were never discovered."

"We didn't leave the house for a long time after that," Dray added. "Apart from the RV folks, that was the first outsider interaction we'd had since the whole thing started."

"And while we were rattling around in here, the decomps made themselves at home in the woods," Ashlee said. "Which, you know, was great at keeping people away but it also kept us in."

"You didn't try to fight them?" Eugene said.

"Not many in our group knew how," Charlie answered quietly, in a voice much rougher than Mason was expecting. "They were scared, and they didn't see the point anyway. This house had kept them safe since the beginning and they didn't want to leave."

"And then the sickness hit, right around the time when our food supply began to run low," Renee took over again, her eyes like onyx. "One by one, our people caught it, until it was just the six of us left. And just when we began to realize that we couldn't stay here, it was too late to leave."

Mason, for all that she was trying to understand, for all that she was trying to _try,_ couldn't help curling her lip in disgust.

"But there are ways," she said. "You could have fought them. Or you could have made yourselves smell like them so they wouldn't notice you."

"They're _infected,_ you idiot," Tanner said.

Eugene's eyes flashed. "Better to risk your life and try than to starve to death like cornered rabbits."

"But even if they weren't infected, there are too many," Renee cut in. "Not all of us will make it if we try to fight them."

Mason huffed. "If the fucking Fates hadn't conspired to try and murder us on the road, we wouldn't even be having this discussion because all those walkers? Eugene and I would have already ended them, just us two."

" _Oh, give me a fucking break,_ " Tanner exclaimed. "Some weirdo redneck freak and a mouthy bitch?"

Mason was already ready to fight him, but it was Eugene who surged to his feet, teeth bared in a menacing snarl. Dropping her bowl, she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his waist to hold him back.

Eugene stared Tanner down without blinking, his expression like the knife edge of the coldest winter wind.

"Call her a bitch again," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll let Mason have first swing because I know she's just dying to, but I sincerely hope she leaves me some teeth to knock out."

In her head, Abraham was cheering.

 _We trained him up good!_

Mason's lips twitched. "Oh, definitely."

"That won't be necessary," Renee said quickly, stepping between Eugene and Tanner, whose eyes were bulging with a mixture of rage and- Mason noted with satisfaction- unease.

Dave flanked her. "Yeah, look, we don't have to talk about all this right now. We probably shouldn't, I mean...we're all just getting to know each other. And I'm sure- I mean, well, it's an adjustment for all of us."

"Yes, it _is_ ," Mason said- the first thing she'd confessed with earnest to these people. "But maybe it's best to get the ugliness out of the way first."

Eugene heard the change in her voice and gave her a look. She inclined her head before she could change her mind.

"Before we can move forward with anything else," he began, "there is something you need to understand about us. We are not running from a ruined kingdom. We are not orphans. We are on a...a mission. And there is a very high probability that our success or failure will one day directly affect you."

Dray frowned- all of them were frowning, spooked by this declaration. "How's that?"

"You wanted to know how we could have been driven out of our home," Mason answered. She paused to take a shaky breath. And then she began.

"There is a man- Negan- and his people. They call themselves the Saviors. And they are the new world order."

NOTE: Alright, guys, hopefully that wasn't too painful of an introduction. Like I said, I'm never super thrilled with meeting new characters, so I get it if you're a bit put off but I promise these are pretty much the only other OCs I'll introduce. Of course if you _didn't_ mind them, then ignore this because I worry about everything and it's kind of ridiculous but them's the spades. Also, in the next chapter I plan on explaining a bit more about Alpha and where she's at. But anyway, as always, thank you and much love.


	6. Fall

Hey, guys, back again with a new chapter and it's another long one (sorry). We get to know the new characters a bit better in this one, so hopefully that's enjoyable. I had fun with it, to be honest. The chapter song is "Fall" by Daft Punk, which originally was a song off of the TRON soundtrack but the version that I fit with this chapter is actually a remix, M83 vs. Big Black Delta, and it is _choice_. Definitely give it a listen if you get the chance. As always, HUGE thank you for your reviews and support! Oh, also, almost forgot: the song Mason and Eugene sing together is Hozier's "Work Song". Anyway, please let me know what you think.

6\. Fall

 **Alpha**

"Is this permanent?"

Alpha limped across the room for emphasis, glaring down at her leg. Though the rest of her was healing- infuriatingly slowly- the stiffness in her leg, and the on-and-off numbness, had not subsided in the slightest.

"Probably," Murph answered from his work bench. When he looked up and saw her stormy expression, his face crinkled in a smile, his bushy eyebrows nearly touching. "Oh, it'll likely get better some, as long as you're gentle with it while it heals."

She thought about telling him that she wasn't gentle with anything.

"Do something about it," she commanded.

"There's not much I can do for you now except give you the right things to eat. And physical therapy, which you refuse."

She curled her lip. "I don't like being touched by old men I've only known for a week."

"Fair enough, but don't expect a miracle and then complain when you won't do the work."

" _Don't talk to me about work_!"

Her furious shout swept the smile from Murph's face. He watched warily as she turned and stalked out of the tiny office.

 **Eugene**

With a sigh, he set down his book. "I can feel you glaring daggers at the back of my head, Mason," he said. "Maybe you could swap that out for words?"

The bed jostled as she jumped out of it, huffing, and marched over to stand in front of him. She had to pick her way through a myriad of obstacles; Ashlee had been kind enough to let them use her bedroom since it was the furthest away from everyone else, but apparently she did not believe in tidiness.

"Okay, I'll use my words. _Why the fuck are we still here_? These people have nothing to offer us."

"Why are you so quick to assume that?"

"Um, because I'm not an idiot? Their faces yesterday didn't tip you off? They're too weak to help us."

He had to admit, their reaction when he'd told them the story of Negan's take over had been less than encouraging. No one had spoken for a long, long time after he'd finished, staring at him and Mason, staring at each other. And then when Dave had finally broken the silence, it was only to say that it was past lunchtime and to ask Ashlee for help in the kitchen. Still, he hadn't lost hope.

"You think they're weak for reacting the way a sane human being with any inkling of self-preservation would react?" he said.

"You didn't even tell them _how_ Glenn and Abraham died!" she replied. "You didn't tell them how _AJ_ died!"

"I didn't think it was relevant at this stage in the game."

" _This is not a fucking game_!"

" _Yes. It is._ "

The bite in his words was enough to make Mason pause, though she still continued to glare at him. He stared her down steadily.

"To Negan this is a game, just with higher stakes. And he is smart enough to play it, and if _we_ are not smart enough then he can easily win it."

Mason shook her head. "Eugene, look, I know you're, like, an ultra nerd, but it's incredibly irresponsible to pretend that _a real fucking war_ is just...a game."

"Oh, really? Just like it's incredibly irresponsible to ignore the advice of someone who knows how to play?" His eyes glittered. "Did you never wonder _why_ there are so many games based on war? _Because war is strategy_."

For a moment, Mason's eyes flickered to the side.

As though she were hearing someone else speak.

Eugene had not failed to notice this new habit of hers, and concern knocked the legs out from under his argument. Maybe now was the time to ask her about it...

But before he could, she clenched her jaw and shook her head again, this time more furiously. Not in disagreement, not exactly. But as though she were trying to dislodge something.

"Strategy is worthless if you don't have the muscle to back it up," she said. "Now you just...go back to reading your books. I'm gonna scout for weapons."

She marched out of the room before he could reply. Heaving another sigh, he picked up the book again and stared at the cover.

He didn't look up when the door opened again, not even in surprise when it was Dave and not Mason who sat next to him.

" _Catch-22_?" Dave said. "I never got into that one. War novels just aren't my speed."

Eugene rubbed at his eyes, feeling suddenly tired. "They're not my speed either," he said. "But my options are limited."

"Oh, well we have plenty of other books. Renee's and Ashlee's mostly. I love to read but I'm very particular about _what_ I read, so my collection's pretty niche but if you want-"

"Thank you. But that is not what I meant."

Dave blinked, seeming to reconsider the genre of the book. "Oh. Right."

He was silent for a moment, long enough for Eugene to remember the silence yesterday and to wonder if maybe Mason was right about them after all.

"So I saw your angrier half storming around the house," Dave finally said. "You know, she kind of reminds me of my boyfriend. I guess ex-boyfriend. It's not like we broke up or anything but he...he was one of the ones who died in the ambush."

Eugene glanced at him. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. Oh, it's not like I don't wish he was still here. I...I miss him every day." He paused, blinking eyes that were suddenly bright with tears. "I just mean that...having him here would only make _me_ happy. He would be miserable. This world wasn't good for him. He _felt_ too much, too strongly."

"Mason, too," Eugene said quietly.

Her emotions chewed her up like hungry dogs. It was one of the reasons he loved her. It was one of the reasons he was so afraid.

Dave nodded. "Yeah, I can tell. That's why she's so angry, right? She thinks that will protect her from getting hurt again."

The accuracy made Eugene bristle. "Yes, but she _is_ strong enough for this world."

"But does she want to be?"

The question was a knife twist in his gut, so unexpected that the breath caught in his throat. He thought of the scars on her sides and stomach, the ones on her thighs.

She had tried to kill herself. _Twice_.

 _That doesn't mean she doesn't want to live. It just means she wants to escape the pain._

That was why she drank, why she relied so heavily on music, why she clung so desperately to the idea that she could have a happily ever after with the people she loved. He'd known all this for a long time. He'd always admired the strength of her resolve to survive, to keep fighting.

He'd never thought that maybe she didn't _want_ that strength. That maybe it wasn't a triumph for her at all, but a misfortune.

The thought... He swallowed back tears.

The thought broke his heart.

Dave scanned his face and nodded, as though he could see all this written there. "She's mad at us, too, right?"

It took a few seconds for Eugene to pull himself out the mire of this new revelation, and when he did he felt horribly disoriented, like a wall had come down between him and the rest of the world.

"Yes," he admitted. "Her people...her family means everything to her. She would tear herself apart for them. By any means necessary, she is going to save them. _We_ are."

Dave stared at the floor, the muscles in his jaw working like he was chewing over his next words.

"I can't...promise anything," he said eventually. "But this group...we had a code. We _have_ a code, even if maybe we've forgotten it. I'll talk to the others. Try to get them to remember it... _Your_ best play is to rationalize. Remind them that this guy is bad news, and that he's also our neighbor."

"Thank you," Eugene murmured.

"I know what it's like to love someone whose first instinct is to destroy themself."

Abruptly Dave stood, wiping at his eyes. He pointed stringently at Eugene's book as he turned to leave.

"Stop depressing yourself and get a new one."

 **Alpha**

She trailed her fingers through the faux fur of the werewolf mask. Its yellow eyes bulged comically in its gray, silicone face, its teeth bared in an eternal snarl. Absently she pulled out her pocketknife and began carving a 'W' into its forehead.

Old man Murph lived in a costume store, of all the _fucking places,_ and the whole time she'd been there she could think of no one but Mason.

Mason, who claimed not to like kids but who delighted in handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. Who had dragged Alpha to pumpkin patches every year they were together, whose lips tasted like caramel and cider. Who had never tired of playing in the aisles of costume stores...

Thin-lipped, Alpha threw the mask onto the counter where she sat and impaled it with the knife.

She was not comfortable with the feeling of... _missing_ someone.

 _Sentiment,_ she thought with disgust. Mason had been a sentimental idiot. Of course now...

Now she was a staple of her favorite holiday. _Reaper._ Alpha was almost jealous of the title.

 _If she's even still alive._

True. Things had not fared as well as Alpha had hoped, for her or the disaster duo. She'd already asked if Murph knew anything about them, about Alexandria or the Saviors, but he hadn't provided any useful answers.

"Keep to myself, mostly," he had said. "Got the dead to keep me company."

Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow flickered.

She turned, expecting to see the old man. But the aisle was empty, shadowed now that the sun was nearly gone. Through the front windows, the world was lavender and gray. A ghost world.

The back of Alpha's neck prickled.

Someone was in the store with her. She was sure of it.

Slowly she rose to her feet, grabbing the pocketknife and the larger hunting knife tucked in her belt. She snuck around the side of the counter and out into the main part of the store. Goblins and vampires and witches eyed her as she hobbled from aisle to aisle, cursing her leg and cursing Rosita, who she hoped was currently being digested by the undead.

A pattering, loud and swift, passed by in the next aisle over. The sound of bare feet slapping on tile. Nerves stinging with adrenaline, Alpha hurried to intercept them. But when she turned the corner there was nothing.

Her heart ricocheted in her rib cage and she realized...realized she was _afraid_.

Fuming, she took a defensive stance in the middle of the room and snarled, "If there's anyone in here, grow some nuts and show yourself!"

" _Gina_..."

The voice was low, quiet, but the anguish in it, the glass-brittle _agony_...

"Feral?" she breathed.

The voice did not come again, but...on her left...

She turned, the blood throbbing in her ears, fingers slick with sweat around the handles of her knives.

Feral stood at the end of the aisle across from her, as though she'd materialized from the very shadows gathering with the oncoming night. She was dressed in the all-black attire the Saviors had given her, but her feet were bare and bleeding and her face was smudged with soot and there was something...off about the way she held herself. Like she had been taken apart and reassembled carelessly.

Then she spoke, in the voice Alpha had heard only on the rarest occasions.

"You let him use me," she said. Her eyes were wide and mournful. Brimming with blood.

Alpha shook her head. " _You_ did." But the words did not come out forceful like she intended.

"It was you, Gina, it was you," Feral insisted and now her voice was changing, dropping in pitch and then rising again, _warping_.

A cold sweat broke out on Alpha's temple, the nape of her neck.

 _This isn't happening. This isn't happening._

"You whored me out, just like your mother did with you."

" _No_ ," Alpha hissed. "I tried to _save_ you, you little shit, but you didn't want to be saved. You were so fucking enamored with that piece of shit, you let him mold you into a weapon. And look what it got you. I shouldn't have even bothered with you, you runty bitch. I should've just left you that night out on the road."

Suddenly, as though she'd triggered some silent signal, Feral disappeared. No poof, no flash of light, just...gone. But the feeling, the awful chill creeping along her bones, that remained. Trembling, Alpha turned in a circle, peering into the gloom.

That's when she saw him, peering in through the windows with a hideous jack-o-lantern grin. _Negan_. And Feral stood with him, except she wasn't really standing, and her little hand was dwarfed by his calloused fingers, and her eyes were black and staring and utterly blank because she wasn't just dead, she was _hollowed out_ , she was a vessel, a _puppet._

And Alpha had let that happen.

"Evening, cherry bomb," Negan said through the glass, and then with a chuckle began to saunter away. Feral's little legs dragged on the sidewalk next to him, twitching occasionally like they were trying to stand of their own free will but ultimately failing.

 _this isn't real this isn't fucking real_

But she had to believe the bloody footprints staining the concrete.

" _NO_!" she bellowed, racing for the nearest exit as fast as her bum leg would allow.

The frigid air knocked the breath from her lungs but she kept moving, blinking away tears that she refused to believe were from anything but the temperature change. Negan and Feral were already a good ten yards away, their silhouettes hyper-dark against the evening sky. They weren't just real. They were more real than the world around them. The trees, the buildings, the sidewalks, were cardboard and smoke compared to their burning black hole actuality.

" _Feral_!" she screeched. She could feel the world slipping from its usual architecture, melting into something like a dream, but she didn't stop. Faintness turned her cells to helium but she _could not_ stop.

And then, in a blink or in a thousand, she couldn't tell, she was reaching out and grasping the thick leather of Negan's jacket and it was so fucking _real_ , she was _sure_ of it. The knives slipped a little in her sweat-slick hands but they still hit their mark.

His hand first, to free Feral.

Then his eyes, so that he would never lay his gaze on her or Feral again.

And then his chest, over and over and over again, until blood slid in deep red sheets down her arms and she was screaming, screaming, and the world was screaming with her and whirling so recklessly she had trouble standing-

" _Hey_! _Miss, please_ -"

The old man's voice cut through the chaotic spiral like a sharp bit of hail, but as she blinked and her vision cleared she realized that he must have been hollering for a while. His hands grabbed desperately at her arms, trying to stop her from slicing him. For a moment she was enraged. Who was he to stop her, to stand between her and her vengeance?

But then she saw her hands. Clean. Bloodless. And the knives, they winked silver and not red under the waning moon.

Wildly she spun around, heaving breath into lungs that felt too tight, too small, but there was no sign of Negan. No sign of Feral. She cast a bewildered glance behind her, but the bloody footprints were gone. Had never been there in the first place.

"They were here," she croaked, so dizzy from the flood of emotions, so dizzy from having something that felt so substantial ripped out of her hands.

So dizzy...

"C'mon, miss, let's...let's get you back inside," Murph said gently, his arms around her to prop her up. Distantly she was surprised to find that despite his twiggy frailty he was actually quite strong.

She was too stunned to reject his help, but as they limped back in the direction of the store she growled, "Alpha."

"What?"

"My name. It's Alpha."

He blinked. "Your parents must have been some characters to give you a name like that."

"No," she replied. "My parents didn't know a damn thing about me."

 **Mason**

There was no armory. A day and a half since the meeting- and the lukewarm reaction from the others- and Mason had found nothing even remotely resembling one in the entire ridiculous house. She had avoided all contact with the group where she could help it. Even Eugene heard little from her as she skulked from room to room, waiting to feel well enough to leave.

He had been so adamant about recruiting the group that she hadn't broached her plan to him yet, but...

They could just take all their weapons and go. Fight their war, do what needed to be done. They didn't need these people.

Of course this had been met by a myriad of protests from the voices.

 _You can't do that,_ Glenn had argued furiously. _You would be just like Negan if you did._

 _We can return the fucking weapons once we're done with them,_ had been Mason's exasperated response. _It's not like this group is using them anyway._

 _Hate to side with the Boy Scout here, but you would be making one hell of a douchebag play with that scheme,_ Merle had said. _Your geek boyfriend_ _was right. Gotta think before you start mowin' people down._

 _I'm sorry, but when it comes to things that require, you know, a conscience, I am not taking advice from your hillbilly ass,_ Mason had replied. _Besides when did you ever think anything through in your entire life?_

Hershel's input had hurt more than the rest of them.

 _You're not angry with these people because they aren't soldiers,_ he'd said. _You're not angry at all. You're cowering, Mason. You're afraid, because to lead these people into war is to put their fate in_ your _hands. But Daryl and AJ-_

She'd had to cut him off there, because whatever else he'd been prepared to say was intolerable.

 _I don't even know these people, I don't give a shit what happens to them,_ she'd snarled. _I just care about_ my _people. These idiots would probably get us captured or killed. I just care about_ winning.

She'd refused to think any further than that, to acknowledge the part of her that suspected...suspected maybe she was lying to herself.

But out of all the voices, the one that mattered most never spoke up. And she knew it wasn't _really_ Beth, knew it was just her mind trying desperately to patch itself back into some semblance of _okay_ , but... She couldn't help wondering what that voice would have said. Would it have supported her? Would it have called her a coward, a liar, a monster? The not knowing drove her nearly insane if she thought too long about it.

Now here she stood, glaring at a couple of coats and an old vacuum cleaner, wishing a dead girl would talk to her.

Fantastic.

"We don't keep our weapons in plain sight."

She whipped around, reaching for the knife on her belt. Her fingers paused on the hilt when her eyes fell on Charlie, who watched her with wariness but not fear.

Mason narrowed her eyes. "You don't keep them anywhere, apparently."

Charlie's lips pursed with subtle disdain as she pushed her way past Mason and reached for the vacuum.

"Maybe you just need to be smart enough to know where to look."

Without another word, she pulled off the detachable handle and shook the open end over her waiting hand. The knife that slid out was sleekly savage, stainless steel with a twisted helix blade. And the way Charlie held it, there was no doubt in Mason's mind that she knew how to use it.

Mason prickled defensively, suddenly aware of how little room there was to maneuver in the closet.

Charlie watched her a moment longer before flipping the blade with unabashed skill, so that her fingers were pinched near the hilt but the handle was facing Mason.

An offering and an assurance.

Slowly, Mason reached out to take it.

"It's a gimmick blade. Really just for show than anything else," Charlie said. "See the handle is metal? Way less useful tactically than rubber. Cost my sister a pretty penny for little more than marketing, but shit, did it make the men on my block think twice when they saw it on my belt."

Mason glanced up from the blade to find Charlie's eyes sparkling, darkly amused and ferocious.

"Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of dressing up to turn a dark horse into the fourth Horseman. Those assholes never fucked with me again because I carried a knife that looked meaner than it really was."

Despite her misgivings, despite the instinct not to, Mason felt her lips curl into a grin. Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, I thought you might like that story. You know, we're not you. Renee brought you in and even though you were about an inch from death we all knew. You were a warrior. Like the real deal. But that doesn't mean we have nothing to offer."

Mason resisted the urge to fidget. Some forgotten part of her wanted to feel embarrassed by Charlie's assessment. She wasn't a warrior, she was just desperate.

"What are you saying?" she asked. "That you want to help us fight?"

"I'm saying that I see you dismissing us before you've even given us a chance," Charlie replied. "Of course we don't want to fight. But from what you say, we may not have many other options. From a strategic standpoint it just makes more sense for us to team up with you guys while we have the chance, I mean, you have the knowledge, you've been in their compound... But, of course, it's going to take more than that to convince some of us."

Mason frowned. "Like what?"

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know. I will tell you that Dave and I? We get it. We want to help you. But you're gonna need to sweeten the deal if you want an undisputed alliance."

"Jesus..."

"What? That's a fair deal-"

"No, no, I just thought Renee said you were quiet."

Charlie smiled, but her expression never softened. Mason wondered if it ever did.

"I speak when I feel it's necessary," she said. "I'm an introvert, I'm not shy."

"Mmm. I'm both."

She handed the knife back to Charlie, who returned it to its hiding place.

"Well, you're obviously not great at hide-and-seek."

Mason grimaced. "I prefer tag."

Charlie huffed a little laugh. "Would you like to see where everything else is stashed?"

"Really?"

"An alliance demands trust. Plus you should know anyway, if you're staying here."

And really she couldn't argue with that. She was getting exactly what she'd been searching the whole house for. So why was it, as she followed Charlie out into the hall, that her stomach twisted with unease?

 _For someone who feels way too much all the fucking time, you sure are shitty at deciphering your emotions._

 _Shut up, Abraham._

 _She's not shitty at it. She knows exactly what she's feeling, she's just very, very good at denial._

 _Way to have my back, T-Dog._

Before anyone else could chime in, she began humming songs in her head, which she had learned through trial and error was usually pretty effective at drowning the voices out. She cycled through music as Charlie led her around the house, and by the time they reached Ashlee's room, the last in the tour, Mason had gone through five songs.

The group, she was pleased to realize, had many more weapons than she'd expected. Leftovers, Charlie explained, from the ones who'd died.

Ashlee was perched on the dresser, reading a worn copy of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban._ She looked up as Mason and Charlie stepped inside, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"Sorry," she said to Mason. "This is my favorite reading spot."

"Ashlee is our resident cat," Charlie said. "She'll also curl up in a nice box when one's available."

Ashlee flashed her middle finger at Charlie but continued speaking to Mason.

"If you're looking for Eugene, he's with Dave and Dray. He got all nerdy and excited when Dave told him about Dray's guitar. Pretty sure they're inducting him as their third bro."

Mason's lips twitched, just a little, even as a flood of guilt churned her stomach.

"Actually I was showing Raging Bull here where we keep all the weapons," Charlie said.

Mason scowled. " _Raging Bull_?"

"Why don't you show her your specialty?"

Ashlee's eyes lit up. "Oh!" She slapped the book down on the dresser and hopped gracefully to the floor.

As she moved through the mess of her room with practiced ease, Mason had an idea that is was a systematic chaos that only made sense to her. This theory was reinforced when Ashlee pulled a rusted coffee tin from behind a stack of CDs and shook something out into her hand.

With a theatrical twirl, Ashlee stuck her hand out in Mason's direction as though for a fist bump. Except if that had been the case, it likely would have taken Mason's fingers off. On her hand was a knuckleduster, but instead of the normal ridges there was a band of metal from which sprouted a cluster of quartz crystals.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

Mason stared at it for a moment before adopting the same deadpan expression Eugene did when he was trying to get her to laugh.

"So your specialty is fisting?"

Charlie and Ashlee gaped in shock. Then Ashlee snorted with laughter and Charlie grinned in approval.

"Sweet, you _do_ make jokes. You'll fit in nicely."

She tried, with some measure of success, to keep the disquiet from her face. _You'll fit in nicely._ Like she was really going to stay. Like she was going to become a part of their group.

 _Oh, lord in bleedin' heaven, not this again._

And there it was. The voice she'd been waiting to hear from all this time.

 _Hey, Beth,_ she thought weakly.

Outwardly she knew her body had gone still and that Charlie and Ashlee were looking at questioningly. Distantly she felt her mouth move.

"I think I'm gonna lay down for a bit. Thank you for...trusting me with your weapons."

She waited until they left, casting concerned glances over their shoulders at her sudden change but thankfully not mentioning it. She waited until Ashlee closed the door behind her. Then she sat on the edge of the bed to wait for her psychosis to speak.

 **Alpha**

"You did your experiments here?"

Murph looked up in surprise from whatever it was he was scribbling in that damn journal of his. He spent most of his spare time hunched over it, but Alpha had never been able to decipher any of the writing.

"In the store? Lordie, no! Not any-"

"Equipment, yeah. I'm not an idiot, I didn't mean in this building," Alpha growled. "I meant in this town, in this area."

"Oh, no. I worked in a hospital in D.C. That's where I did...the majority of my studies."

"Were you the only one?"

Shadows flickered in those dark, dark eyes.

"Yes. But I had a hospital full of patients."

"Cold bodies."

"That's right, miss. For a while."

Alpha frowned. "What does that mean?"

Suddenly Murph began to fidget, like a kid confessing to drawing on the walls. "Well...the tests, the results, could only _really_ be thorough if I took into account the variables of...of a _living_ subject. So-"

"You experimented on the living," Alpha finished.

Murph wrung his hands. "It was the only way to be absolutely accurate."

For a moment Alpha just sat there, blinking in disbelief. Then her lips curled in a ruthless grin. "And were these living subjects _willing_ subjects? Or did you harvest them for the greater good and all that crap?"

"Hey, now, they...I was never _cruel_ , not intentionally, you just...you have to understand-"

She held up her hands with a low chuckle. "Hey, man, I _do_ understand. I like it. You have some backbone in you after all. So when did you decide to quit hunting your prey?"

There were tears in Murph's eyes but not a single one fell as he looked at her.

"Right about the time I discovered that...the infection was a joke. Just one big joke. And the cure was the punchline."

Alpha stared at him as the words sank in, one after the other. Even her heart seemed to pause as, slowly, she leaned forward, spearing him with her eyes.

"You actually figured it out," she breathed, "didn't you?"

He laughed bitterly. "Figured it out? No, not...not exactly. It would be more accurate to say that... Well, imagine that the cure is a bear, and all the scientists looking for it before were checking wrong cave after wrong cave after wrong cave."

"And you found the right cave."

"Right, but that's _all_ I did. Somebody still needs to wrangle the bear. And even then...I don't know if the outcome would be of any benefit."

Her thoughts moved fast but she followed all of them. Carefully she said, "Why don't you tell me what you already know? Maybe I can help."

Murph blinked, eyes wide. "Oh, thank you, miss, but I'm not sure what you could contribute. I don't mean any offense, it's just that...well, you don't have any medical background, do you?"

She shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt sharing the information, would it? Besides, I may be a layman, but that doesn't mean I can't accidentally prod you in the right direction. Unless you'd rather I donate my body to science."

"Oh, miss, I couldn't ask you to do that. You're- well, we're friends, aren't we?"

And Alpha gave him her most winning smile as she said, "We are now."

 **Mason**

She was lying on the bed when Eugene found her, staring blankly up at the ceiling, not a thought in her head. Except one.

 _You know what you're feelin'. You don't need_ me _to tell you._

That was all Beth had said, the only answer Mason had gotten out of her, and it wasn't even an answer. And ever since the voices had fallen uncharacteristically silent, as though trying to let her piece shit together on her own.

 _Well, fuck that,_ she thought. And it was petty and irresponsible but...well, why _shouldn't_ she mask whatever she was feeling with anger? She had earned the right to be angry, hadn't she?

Eugene gave her a tentative smile as he shut the door, holding what she assumed was Dray's guitar in one hand. "Good evening, Miss May."

She propped herself up on her elbows. "Hey. Did you have a good time with your new buds?"

"Indeed I did. Dray relinquished part time custody of his guitar to me."

She raised an eyebrow at the eagerness in his voice, the fervent gleam when he looked at her.

With a little self-conscious shrug, he said, "I just...missed playing."

"So you plan on being one of those dick waffles that plays the guitar all the time?" she teased as he laid down on the bed next to her.

"Yep. One whole waffle of dick. All I need is a baseball cap to wear backwards and an unshakable sense of entitlement."

"Aww, but you look really cute with a hat on backwards."

"You say that about everything I wear."

"Because you look cute in everything."

Eugene closed his eyes and smiled the first serene smile she'd seen since before they'd been taken. His fingers strummed a few absent chords before melting seamlessly into a song that Mason instantly recognized and she realized... Realized that he had not been excited about the guitar for himself like she'd thought. He wanted it for _her_ , he was excited to be able to give her this gift _._

Tears welled in her eyes. He had started humming the intro to the song, and she hadn't sung since her internment with Daryl, but... She could give him this. It was not just his gift to her.

His smile widened as she began to sing but he kept his eyes closed. And, just for a while, they were somewhere else. And there was _peace_. In that whirlwind of fire that had overtaken her, there was a spot of relief, and hope. It was still there, even after everything. Her voice shook at this revelation but she didn't stop until she and Eugene hummed the last note together.

When the song ended, Eugene kept playing, shifting into a string of notes that complimented each other flawlessly.

Mason sighed.

"Alright," she said.

Eugene stopped and glanced at her. "Alright, what?"

"Alright, let's give these people a shot."

He sat up with a familiar frown, his _hold-up-I'm-computing_ frown. "What changed?" he said.

"I don't know, maybe...maybe I jumped to conclusions. They're not soldiers, but they have potential. They've got the weapons, at least. We can train them like we did Alexandria."

His eyes gleamed. "Yes. Full-time regimen, like mine after the Battle. Shooting, hand-to-hand combat, the works. All we need is to convince Tanner and Renee."

"I think I have an idea for that," Mason said. "But first, let me ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Why were you so goddamn set on me taking a chance on these people? And I'm not talking about the obvious. I know you better than anyone, Eugene, I know when you have an ulterior motive. So what's up?"

Eugene blinked at her in earnest, as though it should have been plain.

"Mason," he said. "Do you remember when you told me the story about your last day on the football team?"

She did. They'd been talking about fights they'd gotten in when they were younger, Eugene confessing that he'd often been shoved into lockers and jumped on the walk home from school. It had surprised him when she'd replied that she hadn't gotten into many fights in school.

"I didn't want to stress out my mom," she'd explained. "But sometimes it was inevitable. There were so many _assholes_ at my school."

She'd proceeded to tell him about the time when some of the guys from the team had cornered her in the girl's locker room after practice. They'd shoved her around a bit, calling her a dyke and a cunt, before she'd finally snapped. One black eyes, one broken nose, and two fractured knuckles later, she was officially off the team.

"Yeah, see, even though those fucksticks started it, the coach didn't even _consider_ kicking any of them off the team," she'd said. "Not his prize jocks who were just 'hazing me' like they did all their other teammates. Don't ever let anyone tell you that teachers and coaches don't pay attention to the social standings of their students because they fucking do."

She hadn't been sad about it, she'd told him. Pissed off, yes. Disturbed, of course. But it was really no less than she'd been expecting in the long run. It hadn't made sense at first why the depression had hit her so hard after that but eventually she'd understood.

"You told me that you didn't belong anywhere," Eugene said now. "That there were no cliques, no friends aside from Gina, and that you didn't want it to matter because it was just four years of your life, but it did anyway."

Mason smiled a little. "And you said you wished we'd gone to school together. So we could be our own little two-man pack of misfits."

"Yes, and I still wish that," he said gently. "You also told me that you'd always longed to be a part of a group, a...family. I think you referred to it as a cheesy, _Breakfast Club_ cliche."

Slowly her smile faded, and the ever-present fire in her chest went a little cold.

"What are you trying to say?"

He had the good sense to look a little nervous. "It is quite possible I am being presumptuous, but I have found through trial and error my logic to be quite sound and in this case my gut also happens to be in agreement-"

"Spit it out, Eugene."

"These people are _misfits_ , Mason. They...they're a family-"

Mason stood before he could finish, shaking her head, lips pursed in a thin line.

"I _have_ a family, Eugene. _We_ have a family. These people...we just fucking met these people! _God,_ it was hard enough for me to consider asking them for help and now you're just-"

"No. Please, Mason, I just wanted you to-"

"To what? Replace my family with these strangers just because you think that maybe we might have been some clan of losers together in high school? _Fuck. That_."

"That is not what I was saying at all. I'm sorry I upset you. I just didn't want you to feel so alone."

She almost let out a sob, the words hit her so hard. He was only concerned with her well-being but she couldn't stop feeling so angry. She was _seething_ with it, her whole body felt like a living flame, like she might have been dripping molten ire out of her pores. And she was a bitch, she was a horrible person, but all she could bring herself to say through her stiff jaw was, "It's almost dinnertime. We'll talk to the group then, one last little audition to make sure this is the right call."

"Okay. Mason..."

His hand brushed hers. The way he looked at her then broke her heart. With a shaky sigh, she cupped his face and kissed him. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, I'm just...mad."

"I know."

She knew he wasn't saying it just to say it, or to soothe her. He knew what was going on with her. Somehow that made it worse.

"Thank you for the music," she murmured. "It did help. I'm sorry I can be...such a brat sometimes."

An understatement.

But Eugene gave her a smartass little smirk, sensing her need to change the tone, and said, "Oh, that's entirely unnecessary. I'm used to it."

"Shut the hell up, you shady bitch."

 **Eugene**

"So how is it that you all became friends?"

Mason was at the table with the rest of the misfits, perched delicately on her chair as though she might flee at any moment. Ashlee sat on her left and Dave on her right, two cheerful chatterers eager to keep her engaged in the conversation. It had been a silent agreement between Eugene and Mason to sit across from each other instead of next to each other, to gauge each other's reactions and exchange signals if they needed to.

Watching her face, he could tell how much the question cost her. Part of him wished he'd kept his mouth shut about the whole family thing, but the rest of him knew that she had to face her feelings eventually.

 _At her own pace,_ he reminded himself. _You can't rush recovery._

He knew that well enough.

No one else noticed Mason's tension, however, and her question brought on a chorus of groans and laughter from the misfits.

Renee hung her head in her hands. "Oh my god, _no_..."

Dray grinned wickedly and elbowed her. "C'mon, Renny. She asked, you can't _not_ tell her."

"Hell, no, we are not talking about this shit," Tanner said.

"Really, Tan?" Charlie said. "The whole world gone to hell and you're worried about embarrassing yourself in front of our new friends?"

Eugene's heart fluttered a little at the sight of Mason's twitching lips- fighting so hard not to smile.

"Oh, don't worry," she said. "There's no way you could embarrass yourself anymore than you already do. You know. With your obnoxious macho bullshit."

Her voice was balanced perfectly between edgy and teasing, and instead of getting pissed Tanner just smirked and flipped her off.

"Alright, alright, alright." Renee held her hands up in defeat. "We met...Jesus Christ..."

"I don't remember that part," Dave said, giggling when Renee glared at him.

"Okay, well, we already kind of knew each other in high school but...like, I was only friends with Dave, Ashlee was only friends with Charlie, so on and so forth. Most of us only knew each other from classes and shit. And then _this one_ -" Another glare in Dave's direction. "He signs me and him up to do a fucking LARP."

The misfits burst out laughing. Mason blinked in disbelief.

" _LARPing_?"

"Oh, you looked surprised, Mason," Charlie said, grinning. "Something wrong with LARPing?"

"No, no, of course not. If you're a nerd."

"You're pretty judgmental for someone who's dating the biggest nerd in existence," Dray said.

Eugene frowned. "Wait, what?"

The misfits laughed again and this time Mason did smile, though it disappeared quickly.

"Ah, yes, the Fates conspired to bring us all together that day," Dave said dramatically. "There Renee and I were, at the crossroads of destiny dressed in our armor of cardboard and felt."

"They were never going to have a future as costume designers, that was clear," Charlie said.

"Don't hate on my armor, I was proud of that!"

"And you all showed up to the same LARP?" Mason asked. "Even Tanner?"

"That's right," Dray said with a smirk.

"I was only there because Ash dragged me along," Tanner grouched, but he was smiling, too.

"Yeah, but why do you think we adopted you into our nerd herd?" Dave said. "Because we could sense you were one of us."

"One of us. One of us," they all chanted together.

Eugene listened while they shared their LARPing adventures, but he kept alert for any signs that Mason was feeling overwhelmed. They could be good for her, he knew. They were precisely her kind of people. And that was exactly why she was resisting.

"...so Charlie kicked him in the nuts and we were banned from the competition," Dave was saying.

"That's not fair if the dude was a creep," Mason protested.

"You underestimate how seriously some of these people take their role-playing," Renee replied.

"It was fine in the end anyway," Ashlee said. "We started up our own game at Lily's house because she lived on a farm, you know? And-"

"Who's Lily?" Mason interrupted- tentatively, as though, despite not knowing who Lily was, she already knew her fate.

Everyone had grown quiet. Ashlee looked horrified, but Charlie clasped a consoling hand over hers.

"Lily was a part of our group before all this," Renee finally said. "She came here to the mountain with us-"

"And she was killed by the Wolves," Tanner interjected. His face was pinched with pain and anger, the latter aimed at Renee.

"I'm sorry," Mason said. "I didn't mean-"

Renee stood before she could finish. Her eyes welled with guilt but her expression was hard as she regarded Tanner. The tension between them could have caught the air on fire.

"You don't need to apologize, Mason," she said, before she strode away.

The others sat in awkward silence, though Charlie kept casting venomous glances in Tanner's direction. Mason shared a long look with Eugene before she got up to follow.

 **Mason**

She found Renee sitting on one of the hospital beds in the infirmary, staring down at her knees. The sorrow on her face made her look very young and very lost. Quietly, Mason sat down next to her.

Renee smiled without humor. "You didn't have to come find me, you know."

"Yes, I am well aware of that."

"That's really cute, by the way."

Mason frowned. "What is?"

"Sometimes you talk like him. Eugene," Renee said. "Apparently without meaning to."

"Yeah, you know what else he taught me? How to tell when someone's deflecting."

Renee sighed but Mason carried on.

"You know, I see the way the others look to you. They trust you. You could lead them. You're better qualified than Tanner, that's for damn sure."

"Mason." Renee said her name so heavily. "I _did_ lead them. Before."

"Oh."

Her shock faded quickly into understanding. Before. She knew what Renee meant but she had to hear it.

"We were going to starve if we didn't do anything about the decomps," Renee said. "Everybody knew it, but everybody had their own ideas about how to handle it. Tanner was the most vocal about his, of course. He agreed with me that we had to dispose of them quickly, but he wanted to gun them down. So we didn't have to get too close, you know? I disagreed. I didn't want to waste the ammo when we could just as easily take them at close range.

"After a few days of discussing and arguing, I had swayed the others to my side. Only Lily sided with Tanner, but it didn't matter because I'd gotten my way and I knew I was right. Besides, I was used to feeling like I always had to prove myself, I'd dealt with that my whole life. But...but then again maybe that's why I was so adamant about being right."

Renee paused, blinking in pain like she could see everything happening again in front of her and could do nothing to block it out.

"I...I led the party that day. I told them all to bring knives, machetes, all that shit, but only a few of us had guns. A lot of them didn't have a great amount of experience killing decomps and I wanted them to get used to the idea that bullets weren't always the best option. I didn't want them to rely on something that was finite, you know?"

Mason nodded, though in her mind she was flashing back to the day she and Eugene had found the metals building and he had told her he could make bullets. How many others knew such an important skill, she wondered? And how would things have gone differently if the Saviors had found out? She shuddered at the thought.

"Everything started out okay. For the short amount of time that I got to watch them work, I was so proud of my people. They were handling the decomps so well, and I told them so. And this girl- Rachel- she turned and smiled at me. And...and so I was looking right at her when one of those...when one of those pieces of shit threw the knife and it was so fucking unreal. One minute she was fine and then the next there was this _knife_ sticking out of her _throat._ And it happened so quickly that for a second she just kept smiling and then..."

Renee paused to swipe the tears from her eyes. Mason swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"When she went down," Renee continued, "I drew my gun and called to Tanner. But by then the Wolves had descended and everyone...everyone was screaming, and some of them were so scared they forgot they were surrounded by decomps. I fought my way through the chaos, watching while the people who had become my family were eaten, or cut into pieces by those _monsters_."

Mason's gut pinched with remembering- the sheer terror as the Wolves climbed the wall, the smoke and the screams, the blood washing the streets.

Janet's mutilated body strewn across her own backyard.

 _Don't think about it,_ she told herself.

Renee breathed shakily, digging her nails into her knees. Gently, Mason pried them away. Renee gave her a grateful look.

"Long story short," she said, "I couldn't...lead after that. I don't think I ever will again. And yeah, maybe Tanner isn't the greatest choice but no one else had the balls to step up except for him. He will always blame me for that day, and I will always know that he's right."

Mason was silent for a moment, holding Renee's hands in hers. When she finally spoke, she chose her words carefully.

"Our leader, Rick... He's made a lot of mistakes. _A lot_ of them. But I would follow him anywhere. And I know this doesn't make anything better, but for what it's worth, he would've made the same call. I would have, too."

Renee stared, like she thought maybe Mason was lying. "Really?"

"Yes," Mason replied, and she meant it. "Sometimes you make mistakes and that shit just happens. And sometimes you can make all the right decisions and still have the universe pull the rug from under you."

"Thank you, Mason," Renee murmured and pulled her in for a hug.

Immediately she stiffened, and it took everything in her not to shove Renee away. "That's- that's okay," she said, waiting a full three seconds before awkwardly maneuvering out of Renee's grip. "I'm sorry but I had to ask about it. I need to know how this group functions together."

Renee's expression darkened. "Because you want us for a war." It wasn't a question.

 _Here's your chance,_ she thought to herself. _Don't fuck it up._

"Eugene and I...we don't want to ask that of you," she said. "I fucking hate it. But...look, I've fought the Wolves and I've fought the Saviors. I remember how absolutely terrifying the Wolves were, how brutal."

She paused then, to look Renee right in the eyes.

"The Saviors are worse. They are _worse_ , Renee. They have the numbers, they have the weapons, and _they are your neighbors_. You may think you're safe now but one day they're going to find you, and they're going to _take everything_. Everything you have, everything you love, it's going to be theirs. That's what they do, and they're very fucking good at it."

There were tears in Mason's eyes now, too, but she didn't stop to wipe them away.

"But they won't just be satisfied with taking your shit, because they want _you_ , too. Once Negan finds you, you work for him and that's the end of the story."

"You and Eugene got out," Renee murmured.

"Yes, and then they took _our family_ as collateral. We have no idea where they are, or how they're being treated, or if they're still fucking alive." Every word burned, but she forced them out. "They need to be stopped. They need to be destroyed, and Eugene and I are going to do that with or without your help, but... It sure would make things a lot easier if we had someone watching our backs."

Renee examined her for a long while before she said, "You make a hell of a speech. Maybe you should be leader."

Mason refused to blush. "I don't care what I am so long as I get the job done."

"Look, Mason... It would be great if we could help you. I know you need all you can get. But we can't even leave this house."

"You can."

 _Make the offer._

She couldn't tell if it was her own voice or someone else's, but it didn't matter. Now was the time.

"Renee, if Eugene and I can clear those walkers, then will you help us?"

 **Alpha**

Murph read to her from his journal without any difficulty, so apparently they weren't the thoughtless scribbles of a raving old fart. Alpha absorbed everything he said, even the theories he'd had that turned out to be wrong. When she spoke to him it was in honeyed tones, and after a while he seemed to buy into it. Like he thought the way she'd acted earlier had been a byproduct of pain and exhaustion and not just her personality.

He was incredibly smart, she was pleased to learn. She liked the clever sort, which was part of the reason she held the Chemist in such high regard. She wondered what he would think of all this, if he'd be able to help the old man figure it out.

Not that she really cared about that. Even if a true cure could be produced, it didn't matter. There was no going back from the things people had done just to survive.

But the old man had earned her respect, and besides...she owed him.

"Miss?" Murph looked up at her now from his workbench. "You...you kept saying 'they were here'. Out there in the street."

It wasn't really a question, and Alpha didn't want to answer it anyway, but the old man had offered up all his information without a second thought. So she waved her hand in an unconcerned manner and said, "Oh, just your average everyday psychotic break. No big deal."

"Do those...happen a lot?"

Alpha's smile faded. "No," she said. "Only recently."

Since she'd been with Rosita. But she hadn't actually _seen_ anything until last night. Up until then, the voices had just...

"Well, if you wanna confide about it-"

"Not really. I just hear voices sometimes. See things. I don't think it's such an uncommon occurrence nowadays."

"You're probably right."

Whispered.

They just whispered.

"They just whisper," she said quietly. "That's all."

"Well, next time they start whispering, ask 'em if they know anything about blood culturing," Murph said and chuckled to himself.

Alpha shook her head to dislodge the haze threatening her thoughts. "Murph," she said slowly. "It's not cold bodies that will help find a cure, right? I mean, not now that you've kind of figured it out."

"No, unfortunately. But it would take a large living study, with people of all types, to come to a viable conclusion. And even then it is a huge maybe."

Alpha nodded.

Her plan had failed, but that didn't mean the endgame had changed.

She paused just long enough to make it more dramatic when she finally spoke.

"Maybe I could provide you with that group of people."

 **Mason**

"You two are fucking insane."

"Thank you, Tanner, it's not like we heard you the first thirty times or anything."

Mason didn't look at him as she spoke, too busy wrapping jacket sleeves in duct tape. It had been Dray's idea, and she had to admit it was a good one. Eugene worked beside her, busily belting weapons and sharpening blades.

"Okay, well, I'm just trying to help your sorry asses out. We saved you, and now you're letting that go to waste."

"You saved us and brought us back here under the assumption that you couldn't escape," Mason replied. "You brought us back to starve with you."

"Mason, you know that's not true, we weren't think about that at the time," Dave said, his eyes wide with desperation. " _Please_ don't do this, you're going to get yourselves killed."

"We appreciate your concern, and I'd like to say we'll be taking it under consideration, but cards on the table this is just the option that makes the most sense and so we will not be," Eugene said. "Rest assured, we have had abundant experience dispatching walkers and are far more than qualified for this mission."

"Guys, it doesn't matter how much practice you've had, those things will overwhelm you and then you're nothing but a midnight snack," Renee insisted.

"And let's not forget about the virus. You know, the one that almost _killed you_ ," Tanner growled, glaring pointedly at Mason. "You're definitely not allowed back in here if you expose yourselves."

"I think it's safe to say that if the rest of you haven't caught it by now, you are not going to," Eugene said. "We have passed out of the red, my friends."

"You say that as you're preparing to go to war with the dead."

"I never specified the category of red."

Mason pursed her lips as she and Eugene donned their bite-proof jackets. The misfits had been in a panic ever since the two of them had launched into their plan, and it was enough that her doubts about them had started creeping back.

"Listen, guys, could you just trust us? Just a little bit?" she said. "I understand that you haven't seen much of the new world outside of this mountain but we have. And we can handle it. If we thought this was a suicide mission, we wouldn't do it. Now please scoot your nervous little asses out of our way."

She and Eugene brushed past them, but they followed like a gaggle of ducklings through the house and into the garage.

Dave bounced urgently in front of them. "Seriously, guys, please. You two may be badasses but that does't mean you-"

Mason held a hand up to stop him. "Dave. We're doing this. Open the doors."

Dray and Charlie did as ordered, though both their faces were pinched with apprehension. The doors- no more than slats of metal screwed together- opened like wings, admitting a gust of frigid air and swirling snow. The night was dark, but above the trees Mason spotted stars and the sliver of the waning moon.

On her right, Eugene reached out to brush his pinky finger against hers. When she turned to look at him, he gave her a cheerful smile, like they were embarking on nothing more than a midnight stroll.

She cocked her head. "Remember that time I jumped out at you from the behind the tree and you screamed like the world's shrillest cockatoo?"

"Which time?"

"Okay, yeah, sorry," she laughed.

"Why are you rehashing such traumatizing events, you know I have very delicate sensibilities."

"Oh, I was just thinking of how proud of you I am. Walkers jump out at you all the time now and you don't even flinch."

He looked genuinely surprised for a moment, and then he smiled and ducked his head. "Well...thank you, ma'am. I had an amazing teacher."

She turned back to face the night, drawing her fire poker. She could hear the walkers milling about in the woods and her blood thrilled at the opportunity to actually be _doing_ something again.

"Just so you're aware, however, I am still screaming like a cockatoo if _you_ jump out at me. You are way more dangerous than a walker."

"It would sincerely disappoint me if you didn't."

Suddenly, Renee stepped in front of them. "Guys. You're really cute and all, but maybe instead of flirting you could come back inside and we'll discuss some other option?"

"There is no other option, Renee, and you said so yourself," Mason said.

"And _you_ said that sometimes the universe pulls the rug out from under you, even when you do everything right."

They stared each other down for a moment, and Mason felt whatever warmth Eugene had lent her trickle away.

There was concern in Renee's eyes, actual _concern_ for their well-being. Like she _cared_ about them, like they were friends.

Mason swallowed hard, her stomach churning.

"C'mon," she said to Eugene, and before anyone could say another word the two of them were running, away from the safety of the house and into the darkness.

And somehow that felt _better._

 _Better_ to get away from Renee, who monitored her family's health and happiness with the same sharp-eyed compassion that Maggie possessed. Better to get away from Charlie and her ruthless, knife-in-the-dark protectiveness, so much like Carol. Away from Dave's bright smiles and the way he saw the good in everyone, just like Beth.

The walkers did not take long to find, clustered as they were not far off the road in a place where the trees were thinnest. There were so many of them, but neither Mason nor Eugene flinched as they arrowed into the herd, and it was just like that night they'd escaped from the Saviors, except this time it was not desperation that propelled her but exhilaration.

They moved in perfect concert, Eugene sticking to her right side, her deaf side. The walkers clustered around them, snarling their undead glee at the meal that had so willingly handed itself over.

But none of them could touch her.

None of them could touch Eugene.

The dead were nothing. Their blood was a baptism. It covered Eugene's machete all the way up to his sure hand. Mason's fire iron trailed gore like macabre streamers.

 _This_ was where she needed to be. _This_ was where she felt alive. She was rabid with it, blazing as the energy she'd been restraining spilled out of her.

And Eugene... Wearing that calculated confidence so well that she felt, ridiculously, in the middle of it all, a rush of dizzying lust.

Her heart was lightning. She was violence, and she was broken, but she had been broken into a deadlier shape. She had been broken into a weapon. Surrounding them, it was just the walkers and the trees and the sprawling sky.

And then-

And then Renee was there.

It shocked Mason enough that she halted with her iron skewered halfway through a walker's face.

But she wasn't imagining it. There was Renee, hacking her way through the walkers with her red hatchet and a rag tied over the lower half of her face. Dave followed close behind, and Dray by his side. There was Charlie with her gimmick knife, Tanner with his baseball bat, Ashlee with her crystals and a kitchen knife. All of them.

All of them.

Above the rags they all wore, their eyes glinted with determination, and Mason could tell they were afraid but they never faltered. They fought themselves a path through the walkers right to her and Eugene, and stood with them as the eye of a squalid storm.

Immediately her savage joy choked off. Her heart stayed in her throat the whole time, her eyes flickering back and forth from face to face, because they were untrained and they were _idiots_ and they shouldn't have come out here.

She couldn't quite believe it at first when the last walker fell and all of the misfits remained accounted for. But the relief that flooded her when she saw that they were all alive and un-bitten caught her by surprise.

She knew. In the space of a second, she was stripped bare.

It was what the voices had been trying to tell her, what Eugene had been trying to tell her, what she'd been denying all along.

These were people she could easily care about, and apparently already did.

And she wanted them for war.

She realized then as she looked at Eugene, who looked back with pained understanding, that she was exquisitely fucked.


	7. Life of the Party

Hey, guys, so I'm back with the next chapter and pretty excited about this one, hopefully you guys like it, too. The chapter song is "Life of the Party" by All Time Low, it is pretty choice, give it a listen if you get the chance. It also fits _perfectly_ with this part in the story. Also, I'm very happy to announce that this is the last super angsty chapter! Yay! (Not that I don't like angst, but, yeah lol) Oh, and also: there is some adult content in this one. Just fair warning. As always but most importantly, thank you guys SO MUCH for your support and reviews, they mean so much to me. Hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know what you think!

7\. Life of the Party

"You have got to be kidding me."

Tanner's face contorted in disbelief and no small amount of disgust. Mason raised an eyebrow at him as she wrapped her hands.

"Why would you think that?"

The other misfits milled around them in the garage, which Mason and Eugene had staked out as their training area. Tanner, it seemed, could always be counted upon to have copious amounts of workout equipment- partly, she assumed, for show. Most of it was impractical, of course, but Mason planned to put the boxing mitts to good use.

Tanner shook his head, sneering. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

"If you think you can."

His eyes flashed but the arrogant curl of his lip never wavered. " _You_ want to train _me_. You. I'm sorry, that's just...that's fucking ridiculous."

Eugene looked up from the work table where he was sitting, sharpening a knife. It was where he planned on teaching them how to construct weapons, explosives included, much to Dave and Charlie's excitement.

"Explain to us why that's ridiculous," he said in a brittle tone, and when Tanner rolled his eyes he shook his head. "No. I want to hear step by step how you arrived at that conclusion."

Mason crossed her arms, waiting. Tanner glanced between the two of them and then snorted.

"Okay, you want to know how I know it's ridiculous? Because I am a six foot, two hundred and fifty pound man, and you are five foot nothing _girl_. That clear enough for you?"

Eugene chuckled. "Oh, _I_ see. It's your fragile masculinity holding you back. Rest assured, Mason can shatter that pesky ball and chain in about two seconds."

"I'd like to think I can halve that time," she countered. "Also, I'm five foot three."

Tanner flared his nostrils in that ridiculous way he had. "Oh, shut the fuck up, you're so full of shit. All I'm trying to do is keep your little girlfriend from getting laid out."

Eugene shrugged. "Why don't you spar with her? Far be it from me to stand in the way of a good show."

"Is that how you get your rocks off, huh? Seeing some other man put hands on your girl? That's pretty sick."

The breath caught in Mason's throat. The misfits let out a chorus of protests but she didn't hear a word they said. Because the fury in Eugene's face...

She knew he was picturing the same thing she was: another man's hands on her face, another man's lips prying hers open like he _owned_ her...

Her stomach rolled sickly.

She whistled softly under her breath, one short note Daryl had taught them on one of their hunts to mean _halt_. Eugene glanced over at the sound, and she could see the physical effort it took to cage his temper. His gaze was unforgiving, however, as it flicked back to Tanner.

"Apparently it's time to make something clear to you," he growled. "We are not going to cater to your misogynist bullshit. She is teaching you, and that is the way it's going to be, and if you have a problem with that feel free to walk off the nearest cliff. There should be plenty for you to choose from."

"You know for such a dweeb-ass loser, you got some brass balls talking to me like that," Tanner said, stalking forward. "But I bet you won't back it up."

Quickly, Mason stepped between them. "Look, Eugene can put you on your ass later. Right now I want you to square up, because I am going to demonstrate something to you."

Tanner huffed. "You sure you wanna do this, short stack?"

"Positive. Class is in session, everyone, pay attention."

The misfits hushed abruptly, huddled close together like nervous sheep. Eugene propped his feet up on the table with the casual smugness of someone who already knew the ending to a movie.

Mason and Tanner stood a few feet apart in the middle of the garage. The cocky way he held himself made her blood boil but she kept her expression neutral as she appraised him.

"Alright. Come at me."

"That's it? Come at you?"

"Yeah, just attack me like you would anyone else."

Tanner scoffed and then burst into movement a second later, like he thought he might take her by surprise. His arms stretched out, to grab her or push her.

Just as he reached her, she pivoted to the side, her right hand flashing out to catch his face. There was enough force to jar him to a halt, and as he stumbled backward she brought her elbow down on his shoulder, unbalancing him before kicking the back of his knees.

He went down hard. She crouched over him, wrenching his arms behind his back.

"Still think I'm kidding?" she said.

The misfits stared in shock. Eugene smirked.

Tanner lay there for a moment before he lurched upward, trying to dislodge her. " _Let me up_!" he shouted.

"You wanna try again?"

" _Yes,_ goddammit!"

Breezily she let him go, standing back a few paces as he scrambled to his feet. He wasted no time in charging her, this time with his head down.

So she charged him, too. With a powerful lunge, she brought her knee sharply into his shoulder and wrapped herself around him, using the force of the blow and her own momentum to fling them both to the floor. She was on her feet before he could recover, her blood singing in her veins. She'd missed this.

 _Don't get too wild,_ Abraham advised her. _You'll scare the sheep._

Right. She doubted they'd want to learn from her if she started breaking bones.

"Holy _shit_!" Dave exclaimed. "How the fuck do you do that?"

"Practice," she replied. "You can't fight your way out of every situation with muscles alone."

" _Fuck_ you," Tanner puffed, pushing himself up off the floor.

Mason eyed him brightly. "Would you like to go a third time? Or can I get on with my lesson?"

After a long pause, Tanner retreated to the rest of the misfits, muttering under his breath. She turned to face her audience, ignoring the awed excitement on their faces. Ignoring them entirely, pretending instead to talk to the wall behind them. It was easier...

"Thank you, Tanner, for being my willing stooge," she said. "I just wanted to assure you all that I am more than qualified to instruct you, and that I also am not intending to pull any punches. That wouldn't serve you. You haven't been out in the world. You haven't learned what it takes, what it costs you, and how hard other people will fight just for the same privilege- to _live_. The Wolves? They were just one facet. You want to survive in this world, then you have to fight."

Mason and Eugene exchanged a glance, and she felt a rush of deja vu. Alexandria had needed the same instruction.

 _And look at them now,_ Glenn said. _Fighters, all of them._

Yes.

The ones who had lived.

"We're willing to," Charlie said. "We want to fight."

Mason didn't look too closely at the onyx glint in her eyes, barely brushed her attention past Dave's eager nod. She nodded brusquely.

"Good. Let's get started."

~m~

That first day was...taxing.

Not just for the misfits, who she worked into an exhaustion so thorough they didn't even have the energy or desire to eat. By the end of the session, she herself felt like an exposed nerve, raw and desperate for distance.

"Maybe...you could go a little easier on them," Eugene suggested that night while they laid in bed.

"If I go easy on them, they're dead," Mason replied.

He was silent for a long time before he murmured, "Stop thinking that you have to take responsibility for every single misfortune that falls on your people."

"These people are not my people," she hissed.

"So if we win this war and the misfits survive, what then? Will you cast them out because they're not _your people_? I seem to remember Rick feeling a similar way about Alexandria."

"I don't give a shit about any of that right now, because we have to actually get there first. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that we do."

"By we, you mean just the two of us?"

"If necessary."

He sat up. It was too dark to make out his expression but Mason could guess from his tone that it was not terribly pleased.

"So that's your solution?" he said. "To shutter yourself off from your emotions, from this group? You can't treat them like pawns, Mason."

"Why not, every other army in the history of the world did the same thing."

"No, _you_ can't. You, specifically. You won't be able to live with that."

Her chin trembled slightly, but her voice was flint. "Well, I can't live with the alternative, either."

They lapsed into tense silence, and when Eugene finally spoke it was only to say that he would take point training the misfits the next morning.

"I think we should split it," he said. "Weapons training in the morning, hand-to-hand in the afternoon. That way you're less likely to kill them."

She felt him turn away from her then, and something inside her went a little numb.

She didn't get much sleep that night.

~m~

The following morning, she was awake before everyone else. There were no windows in the bedroom but some internal clock informed her that it was too early even for the sun to be up. Still, there was no way she was going to close her eyes again. Every time she did her thoughts rushed in, like water pouring over the deck of a sinking ship.

She crept as silently as she could through the dark chaos of Ashlee's room, biting down several times to keep from shouting as she stubbed her toes on various mysterious objects.

The house was silent except for the distant snoring of the misfits in the living room, but the acrid scent of matches caught her attention the moment she stepped into the hall. Her eyes narrowed, but curiosity won out over wariness. She slunk forward, touching the knife on her belt. The door to Dray's room was ajar and out spilled a warm, flickering glow.

After a brief deliberation, Mason peeked inside. Candlelight suffused the room, touching on books and CDs stacked in orderly clutter along the walls, a pallet in the corner clearly used as a nightstand, and Dray sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed. His legs were crossed under him, a coffee mug balanced on one knee. His eyes were closed, but they blinked open before Mason could duck back into the hall.

He smiled his gentle, laid-back smile. "Hey, Mason. I'm surprised to see you up this early. Eugene says you hate mornings."

She shrugged, not quite knowing how to act after the previous day's boot camp. "What are you doing?"

"Meditation; I do it every morning. Ashlee usually joins me but she was pretty beat after yesterday," he replied. Mason's cheeks flushed with something like shame but Dray carried on before she could speak. "Do you want some tea? We ran out of coffee a while ago because Dave and Renee are addicts, but nobody else really drinks tea except for me."

"Um..."

 _Stop bein' so damn prickly and just have some tea._

Beth's irritated tone nearly made her smile.

"I'll just have a little bit. I'm not- I mean, I don't want to interrupt-"

"It's fine. Take a seat, I'll pour you a cup."

Awkwardly she sat on the floor while Dray retrieved a tea kettle from the pallet and poured into a second mug. She frowned.

"I thought you said no one else liked tea."

"Hm?" He handed the second mug to her and returned to his seat on the floor.

"You keep two cups in here. You said no one else drank tea."

Amusement twinkled in his eyes. "You're suspicious when someone keeps more than one cup in their room?"

"I'm suspicious when someone lies to me."

He let out a rasping chuckle. "No one digs on tea like I do, but Ashlee likes Earl Grey and Charlie likes to drink whiskey out of coffee mugs."

Mason blinked. This time she knew it was shame prickling along her skin.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"No need to be sorry," Dray replied. "Suspicion keeps people alive, right? Keeps you on your toes, keeps you from wandering into a bad situation. But you should be careful."

"Isn't that...you know, the whole point of the suspicion?"

"Look, I lived my whole life looking over my shoulder, gauging every person I met, listening for lies and looking for where they hid their truths. I saw it in you that first day. You watched each of us that same way I used to watch the world. Suspicion's good in healthy doses, but man...it can turn into poison real quick."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she sipped her tea instead. The taste made her smile.

"Jasmine," she said. "I haven't had this in forever."

"Sorry if the flavor's kinda weak. Have to reuse the bags as much as I can."

"Oh, I don't want- I mean, you shouldn't waste good tea on me-"

"Mason, it's _fine_." He shook his head in exasperation, but his expression remained good-natured. Mason couldn't picture him as suspicious. "What's the point of having something like this if you can't share it?"

He was one of those genuinely good people, she realized. The ones who only wanted to drink their tea and plant their gardens. The ones who wanted peace and happiness for everyone, not just themselves.

She swallowed hard. "How did you get into meditation?"

"A couple years after my mom died," he said. "I was around twelve when it happened. Man broke into our house and killed her and my little sister."

He said it so calmly. Not without sorrow, but as though it no longer leashed him with its weight.

"I...I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Me, too. That was just the kind of neighborhood we lived in. Charlie lived there, too, just a few houses down with her sister. Ashlee was around a lot, too, visiting her mom. We were all comrades in arms before we were even friends, flocking together out of necessity."

Mason stared contemplatively into her tea. She did not miss the way he said Charlie's name, like it was the most important thing he knew how to say.

"In fact, we didn't even realize we'd become friends until...well, they're the ones that helped me after my mom died. My dad and me kind of fell apart after that, but Charlie and Ashlee kept _me_ from falling apart. At least completely. And then a few years later I got into meditation and...here we are."

"So," Mason said quietly, almost shyly. "It...it works?"

Dray's eyes flooded with understanding. "For me," he said. "But it's not for everyone. Ashlee finds that it works, but Charlie says it's bullshit."

Mason frowned and sipped her tea.

"I could guide you through a few meditations if you wanted to try it out," he continued.

She looked up sharply. "No. I'm fine, thank you."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Why arrows?"

"What?"

She pointed to his wrist, where the little black arrow stood out against the rest of his ink garden. "Why did you all choose that as your group tattoo?"

Dray smiled. "There were a lot of reasons. We chose it as the symbol for our flag when we were LARPing, to mean that we would be a swift and efficient end to our 'enemies'. That was Lily's idea. She was super into symbolism and all that stuff, but she also had an arrow tattoo. She had it first. She said it was because of a quote she saw, something about how an arrow is pulled backward before it can be shot and that life is the same way. So if life's dragging you back, it's just because it's going to launch you forward."

Mason raised an eyebrow and Dray laughed. "I know it's kind of cheesy, but-"

"No," she said. "You got it for your friend. That's not cheesy. Everyone has things like that that keep them going." Unconsciously, she touched her jacket pocket, where the little moon rock was nestled.

She thought of Eugene turning away from her in the dark and suddenly it was harder to breathe.

"I- I'm gonna go now," she said. "Thanks for the tea. Eugene will...Eugene will be spearheading the weapons training this morning."

She didn't go back to her room. She couldn't stand the thought of a rift between her and Eugene. There never had been before. Like a coward, she waited in the garage until the others started trailing in.

The misfits regarded her with new wariness. She told herself it didn't sting, that they _should_ be wary of her. She wasn't their friend, she was their instructor.

She didn't dare look at Eugene, though she could feel his eyes on her as he began his lesson.

He taught the misfits with the same good-natured patience he had his students in Alexandria, running them through drills to familiarize them with guns and arrows. They probably thought him a breath of fresh air after her own drills.

 _No pain, no gain,_ Abraham said cheerfully.

 _Thank you for that cliche, Red. Super helpful._

After a few hours, they were in a much better mood, talking and laughing as they loaded and reloaded guns while Eugene timed them. Charlie and Renee were the quickest. Dray and Tanner weren't terrible. Dave and Ashlee were hopelessly inept. Mason wondered how many times they'd actually used a gun. She tried not to feel too frustrated, but several times she caught her fingernails making divots in her knees.

When they broke for lunch, Mason stayed where she was. She couldn't understand how she could feel so angry and so numb at the same time.

Eugene stayed, too, but she didn't look at him. He waited until the others were gone before he spoke.

"Are you...coming to lunch?"

She shrugged.

"Mason, you need to eat. You may feel totally better, but-"

"I think I'll just eat in here."

She stood and, still without looking at him, strode back into the house.

Quietly she made her plate, skirting past the misfits who were all laughing and lounging in the kitchen, and then returned to the garage. Eugene was gone by then. His absence burned a hole in her stomach, and it was an effort to keep down any of her food.

She did not go easy on the misfits that afternoon, either. Eugene monitored from his work table, stepping in every so often to correct someone's form or offer encouragement where Mason refused. She never looked him in the eye, but she felt the disappointment radiating from him.

When the lesson was over, all of the misfits limped away covered in sweat and bruises. Mason said nothing as they disappeared inside. She focused on undoing the boxing wraps from her hands- perhaps a bit too intently when she realized it was just her and Eugene.

After a long silence, he said, "Coming to bed, May?"

The use of her nickname nearly broke her. "You go on ahead," she said quietly. "I will at some point."

She never could lie to him, but he didn't call her out on it. After a while, he left her alone.

She spent a good half hour leaning against the wall, staring at her hands, her mind empty but not in a way that offered any relief. Her stomach felt tight, her chest like TV static. When she could no longer stand the silence, she grabbed her fire poker, opened the garage doors and slipped into the night.

There was no moon, but the starlight was incredible. Even through the trees their glittering light reached her. She felt closer to them than she ever had, and she was almost tempted to lay down just to watch their slow progression through the night.

Instead she kept moving, her iron ever at the ready, her attention constantly drawn to her right. It had never been more apparent how distorted her hearing was on that side now that she was alone. She hadn't realized quite how much Eugene had been compensating for it.

The bodies were still where they'd left them. Mason figured she only needed twelve or so.

It took her several hours to complete her work, and she was exhausted by the time she returned to the house. She didn't bother with the bedroom. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she pulled a mattress from one of the hospital beds, laid it out on the floor in the garage and was gone almost as soon as she curled up on it.

~m~

"You did this all last night? By yourself?"

Eugene's voice was a razor's edge. Mason tried not to bristle.

"Yep. I hear it's a common insomniac hobby."

She and him stood side by side in the woods, watching the misfits as they milled excitedly around her work. Twelve walker bodies tied to trees at regular intervals down the mountain slope.

"It'll be better once we get some live ones, but for now this will do," she continued.

Eugene turned to her incredulously. "And do you plan on gathering those by yourself, too?"

"I can handle myself, you know. Taught your ass how to survive, didn't I? Feel free to help me gather the next batch if you're so bunged up about it but don't treat me like some fragile fucking..." She trailed off, realizing how unreasonable she was being but unwilling to apologize for it.

"Mason, stop, it has nothing to do with your capabilities and you know that. We're a team. We look out for each other." His eyes flicked worriedly to her missing ear and she ground her jaw.

"I did just fine on my own," she spat. Then she turned to the misfits. "Listen up, everyone. Target practice. That's what you'll be using these walkers for. Once you're decent at it, I'll move you up to live ones but for now you just need the basics."

"We gonna be shooting at these?" Tanner asked, eyeing her sullenly. He only ever eyed her sullenly these days.

"With arrows," she clarified. "Or with throwing knives. We are not wasting bullets on target practice. What you need to work on right now is your aim, your speed and your precision."

"What about you? I don't see you practicing that shit with the rest of us."

Without a word, Mason drew the knife from her belt and threw it. It sank right between the eyes of the walker furthest from her.

"Probably because I don't need to. Now everyone, choose the weapon you want to start with but make sure to switch off from time to time. This will give you more diversity in your movements, help you to become more adaptable."

Timidly, Dave raised his hand. "Um, Mason? Is it true you guys can make bullets?"

"Not us," she replied. "Just Eugene. And he can't make them here."

"That is something that we should discuss very soon, however, as well as the official game plan," Eugene said.

Mason frowned. "Right. Well, I'm gonna do a bit of scouting. I'll be back around lunchtime."

While the misfits grabbed their weapons, Eugene touched her arm. "Do you want me to accompany you?"

"And leave the newbies alone to shoot their eyes out? I'll be fine, I told you." She pulled away, pretending that it didn't cost her to do so.

"Be safe," Eugene said.

She could feel him watching her go, but she didn't turn around.

~m~

"Jesus Christ, stop reading that crap, will you?"

Mason looked up from her hands- the lines and calluses of which had become increasingly fascinating of late, at least whenever she didn't want to think- to see Tanner slap the underside of the book Renee was reading. She thought maybe he meant for it to be somewhat playful, but he hit it hard enough to pop it out of Renee's hands.

Four days since they'd started training, and Tanner had been acting out in such a way that he had progressed from arrogant mosquito to infuriating wasp. During the times when Mason was present, she found it nearly impossible to keep from throwing him through a wall.

Of course, those times were becoming less and less frequent. Even when she was physically there with the others, her mind wasn't. Sometimes she couldn't remember how she passed the time in between fighting lessons. Sometimes she lost whole hours to the void.

"Tanner, I swear to god, if you touch my book one more time I'm gonna cut off your dick and use it as a bookmark," Renee said.

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, sweetheart."

Mason ground her teeth. She wished Renee would do it. She really, really wished she would.

"Guys, could we not, I'm too tired for this shit today," Dave complained. Lounging on the couch next to him, Ashlee nodded her fervent agreement.

Eugene had called for a strategy day, which Mason considered code for rest day. She might have told him this any other time, but they hadn't been speaking much. She had taken to sleeping in the garage on her thin hospital mattress, pretending it was better to be alone. Even the voices had tapered off, drowned in the static that dominated much of her mind.

It was better. It was better.

"I just don't know why you have to read _that_ goddamn book," Tanner insisted. "Out of all the other books in the entire world, you pick the ones our teachers forced us to read, and then you pick the most boring one out of that."

"Tanner, you didn't even read _Frankenstein,_ you just bullshitted your way through the essays," Charlie said.

"I wouldn't have had to do that if they'd just shown us the movie instead."

"The movies were all crap," Mason muttered. "Well, except _Young Frankenstein_ , that shit was hilarious."

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Eugene smile.

Tanner's eyes glittered. "So. Our brutal taskmaster speaks. Let me guess: you loved _Frankenstein_ , too."

She shrugged.

"Color me surprised. Sci-fi throws women a bone and suddenly it's the greatest literary masterpiece in omigod for- _ever_."

She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her. She knew it was resentment spurring him to act like such a jackass.

She also knew that if he didn't shut up in five seconds she _would_ be kicking him in the nuts.

Before she could speak, however, Eugene straightened in the chair where he'd spent the last few hours scribbling notes and then scratching them out.

"Mary Shelley was the mother of science fiction," he said flatly. "She literally invented the genre."

Tanner stared at him. "What-"

"Take your half-assed, idiotic prejudices elsewhere."

The misfits tittered. Renee grinned smugly and flipped Tanner the bird.

Mason narrowed her eyes, noting the subtle movement of the muscles in her arms. Recently Renee had confessed that to pay for nursing school, in addition to cashiering and waitressing, she had been a pole dancer in a club in L.A. It made more sense now why she had an edge over the other misfits in combat training; strong and graceful, there was potential for her to be an amazing fighter.

Just like there was potential for Charlie to be an amazing sharpshooter. Though she did need practice, her aim was much more favorable than the rest. Enough that Mason wondered what exactly was in her past. It remained abstruse; all Mason really knew was that she'd lived in Dray's neighborhood, a neighborhood sketchy enough that she'd only felt safe carrying a dagger that- gimmicky though it might've been- looked like death.

"Oh, fuckin' _whatever_ ," Tanner sneered. "Wasn't this supposed to be a strategy meeting anyway?"

"What did you think I was working on this whole time?" Eugene replied. "These certainly are not my memoirs."

So it definitely was a rest day. Mason threw him a glare and he glared back.

Tanner snatched the notes out of Eugene's hands. "Who the hell decided you could be in charge of this, too, huh?"

"Me," Eugene replied.

"Tanner, he's in charge, just let it go," Ashlee said.

"Not until he convinces me why."

Eugene eyed him coldly. "Because I am smarter than you and far more qualified in regard to this particular situation. Also because I have seen two-year-olds concede with more grace."

Mason flinched, but she would not think of Judith. She would not.

"Perhaps if you stop throwing tantrums I will take you more seriously but in the meantime, hand back my notes and go find something useful to do. Maybe try reading a book instead of scoffing at it."

Even through the haze, Mason felt a flicker of pride. Before the Battle for Alexandria, before Negan, Eugene never would've have stood up to a bully like that.

 _Before you, you mean?_ Glenn said, startling her a bit.

She frowned. _It wasn't just me._

 _If not for you, he might not have believed he could do anything he's doing now. You need to remember that it's a give and take._

 _"You know, this whole thing with your people and my people...it's a give and take."_

She blanched at the memory of Negan's voice, of his hand on her thigh-

 _I know how a relationship works,_ she snapped.

 _Really? Seems like maybe you're forgetting. C'mon, Mason. You two are the balance that the other needs. Eugene soothes you. He keeps you soft. You-_

 _Let me guess: I make him hard._

Glenn sighed while Abraham and Merle snickered.

 _Fine. Turn it into a joke. Do everything you possibly can to avoid what's really going on with you._

 _I'll do that, thanks._

~m~

That night, after dinner, Renee brought out several bottles of wine. A thirst that Mason had nearly forgotten about stirred in her at the sight of them.

"Crackin' into the wine cellar, alright," Dave cheered.

"I just thought that now was as good a time as any. I mean if we're heading out to war we may as well live it up while we can, right?" Renee held up one of the bottles with a curious little smirk. "Uncle Jerry always used to brag about how much money he spent on wine. This bottle? Seven hundred and some change. That's not even the most expensive one he's got and he _never fucking drank any of them_."

Renee shook her head as she uncorked the bottles. "My uncle was the only one in my family who supported me when my dad kicked me out. The only one in my family who supported me all through nursing school. He was a good man in unusual ways. But he never would have understood this."

One by one, she poured the wine into plastic cups and handed them out. Mason held hers in both hands, like it was something fragile she was afraid to drop.

"As cheesy as maybe this is, I'd like to propose a toast," Renee said. "First, to my old friends. You guys have been with me through everything, through the end of the fucking world in fact, and I love all of you."

Instead of raising their cups, the misfits all laid their right fists over their hearts, some of them giggling as they did so.

"It was how we honored each other during an RP," Dave explained in a quiet aside. "The living before a battle, and the...the fallen after."

Mason just stared at him. Stared at all of them. She remembered Eugene telling her that war was a high-stakes strategy game, that Negan saw it that way, and he was right... But now she realized that he'd also been talking about the misfits. Maybe they could only deal with it if they pretended it was just another RP.

Young. They were so young, and they were so good- well, most of them- and she...

She felt abruptly sick.

"And secondly," Renee continued, "I want to toast our new friends. I know we haven't known each other long, but... We were all so convinced that there were no good people left. We thought it was just the decomps and the monsters, but then you two showed up. And I know...I know that this war is serious, and that things are serious, but seeing you two, and how you keep fighting even when the whole world is against you... You give me hope. You give _us_ hope."

The words were sincere, but Mason felt cheap hearing them. It was all she could do to keep from trembling as the misfits turned to her and Eugene and saluted them in the same way they had Renee. Well, all except Tanner, pretending to be interested in his shirt sleeve. She was dizzy. She was going to throw up.

She needed a drink.

Eugene thanked them, though she only caught the gist of what he said through the buzzing in her ears. She kept her eyes down, peering into her cup with ridiculous intensity, distracting herself by trying to come up with the exact shade of red inside. Maroon. Carmine. Rosewood.

Blood.

That was all it really looked like.

Then they all were drinking, so Mason took a drink, too. And it was strong and rich and dry, and tasted nothing like blood. Because it wasn't blood. It wasn't blood.

Maybe if she just didn't look at it...

She downed her cup before the rest of them, and casually went in for seconds. She was already feeling a bit warm, a bit tingly- a testament to how long it had been. But Renee had said to live it up, hadn't she? And Mason wasn't going to be like Uncle Jerry. She was going to drink her wine and fight her wars and that was the way it was going to be.

Two cups in and it didn't hurt to smile anymore. She joked around with Ashlee and Dave, who seemed delighted by her change in attitude. She debated the pros and cons of various high school classes with Renee. She grinned deviously when Dray lost every ounce of one-with-the-world chill at the sight of Charlie, who lifted her shirt to compare abs with Tanner.

Three cups in and she was _flying_.

Her memory fragmented into bits and pieces. One moment she was giggling on the couch with Dave, the next she was leaning heavily on the counter in the kitchen, trying to get her eyes to focus on one thing at a time.

"What, um...what's the alcohol content for these thingies?" Mason wiggled one of the empty bottles in Renee's direction. "I can't read terribly well at this current moment but I'm suspecting...it's high."

Renee grinned. "Jesus, you're wasted."

"Name's not Jesus... But I knew a guy named Jesus. He was a real buttmunch. That kinda makes me want a sandwich, you know? S'got the same...got the same _sound_ , you know? At the end. _Unch_ and _wich_. Oh, fuckadiddle-"

Mason glared down at the shattered bottle at her feet. Gentle hands scooted her away from the mess, and she turned to see Eugene.

"Oh, hey, look! It's the love of my life." She smiled sweetly at him before pointing to the glass. "Somehow the bottle slipped from my very capable fingers. I suspect espionage. Wait, no... Sabotage! Those words have the same ending, too."

Eugene brushed the hair out of her face. "Sweetheart, do you think maybe you could drink some water?"

She screwed up her face. "Why...why the fuck would I want _water_? What has _water_ ever done for me? Hey, do you think if Buttmunch Jesus were here, he could turn it into wine? Cuz I'm totally down for more wine."

Even in her drunken state, she could see how hard he fought to keep from laughing. Which made her grin like an idiot.

He said, "Well, you can have more wine if you really want some, but I guarantee you'll be cursing yourself tomorrow."

She nodded as seriously as she could manage. "You know what? You know...what?"

"...What?"

"You...you're always right." She poked his stomach, her grin turning evil when he squeaked.

"I am going to have you go on record as stating that- stop poking me!"

"You're such a ticklish little nerd."

"I am not."

"Is that...that sounds like a challenge."

"You are not in any state to challenge anyone to anything, love. Come on, let's get you some water."

"Okay, but...in a minute, alright? I'm gonna...I'm gonna go lie down."

She didn't realize she had no intention of doing so until Eugene guided her to her mattress and left to get some water. As soon as he was gone, she scampered inelegantly for the garage doors.

A blink later, she was out in the woods, stumbling between the trees and apologizing when she ran into them. It was freezing but she didn't feel it. She was so _warm_. Not the fire, not the bloodlust, just...warm.

She sang to herself as she tripped through the dark, wishing she'd brought Eugene, wishing her friends could see the whirl of stars above her head.

 _Which friends?_ she wondered.

The spirits could probably see it. The spirits were probably part of the stars themselves.

But Rick.

Where was he? Could he see the stars, too?

What about Carl and Michonne? Little Asskicker? Rosita, Aaron, Gabriel? Did they know how the sky looked tonight?

"I'll see them again," Mason announced to the trees, to the sky.

But what if tonight they crouched in cells, surrounded by blackness and cement?

She slowed to a stop. "I'll see them again," she said. Quieter this time.

What if they were hungry? What if they were cold?

"I'll see them again."

She sank to the ground, confused by the wetness on her cheeks, confused by where she was...

Where the fuck was she?

She wanted more wine, she wanted Eugene, she wanted her family and the stars.

~m~

"God _dammit_ , Mason!"

She didn't look up, too busy staring at her hands. "Hey, Eugene."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I...just...wanted to look at the sky."

He huffed furiously, but his touch was gentle as he took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. "We need to get you back inside, it's freezing out here."

When she didn't move, he sat down beside her, scooting as close as he could to lend his body heat.

Her attention narrowed abruptly to the feel of his thigh pressed against hers. Ignoring the throb building deep in her skull, she turned, hooked her leg over his and squirmed into his lap. Straddling him, she reached for the buttons on his shirt.

He blinked in shock. "M-mason-"

"I want you," she murmured.

"It's...it's cold-"

"I don't care."

"No, I mean...I mean, it's _cold_ ," he said with a meaningful glance between his legs.

Her left hand followed his gaze, her right gripping the back of his neck. "You think I can warm you up?"

His eyes burned into hers, all fire. "Yes, I believe you could."

The sound of his voice, husky with desire, was like a finger trailing up her spine. She shivered into him as he pulled her closer, kissing roughly while she undid his jeans. His breathing hitched as she yanked his boxers out of the way. She crushed herself against him, offering as much heat as she could while her left hand worked.

It didn't take long before he was hard in her grip. Growling in satisfaction, she nipped lightly from his shoulder, up his throat to his jawline and then his earlobe.

"Mason...Mason, wait-"

"Hmm?"

Eugene twitched in her arms. "You're clawing the hell out of my back."

She blinked, realizing that her nails were indeed embedded in his skin. "Sorry."

"Are you sure you want to do this? Truly, you do not have to if you don't feel-"

"I'm fine," she hissed. "We're doing this."

 _Hoo, man, that is super romantic,_ Merle crowed.

 _I really don't want to hear your voice right now._

It was too cold to take her clothes off completely, but she wriggled quickly out of her jeans and underwear, frantic with desire, angry with it.

Angry.

She lowered herself onto him, biting her lip as he filled her. All she wanted was his heat, to melt into him, to forget.

"Wait, Mason," he said, breath hitching. "Should we without-?"

"I don't care," she gasped. "I don't care."

Why did it matter anymore? Negan had never used protection. He'd never allowed condoms. He'd said he wanted to _feel_ her, said he'd wanted the full experience and damn the consequences.

And they were going to fight a _war_. They were probably going to die. So why did it matter, why did anything?

Every movement on top of him was charged with desperation. She clutched at the back of his neck, but the hair she'd used to run her fingers through was gone, they had cut it off, they had made him _kneel_ -

"Mason," Eugene grunted. "Your nails."

She undug them from his collarbone, squeezing her eyes shut because her vision was blurring, and the volume of the static in her head was rising to a scream.

 _"On your knees, Mason, like a good girl."_

No.

 _"Yeah, doll, just like that."_

 _No._

Negan wasn't there. She wasn't going to let him fuck this, too, just like he fucked everything else, just like he fucked her.

Those weren't tears on her cheeks. Her moans weren't dissolving into sobs. She was holding Eugene too tightly and her right hand was clawing at her own thigh to keep from hurting him and the voices were there.

The voices were there, all of them at once, but soft. So soft, like they knew just how close she was to breaking completely. Saying her name like...

Like she was something to keep from breaking.

And then Eugene was cupping her face in his hands, halting his own movements. "Mason. Mason, sweetheart, stop. It's okay, just stop."

She met his gaze for a moment, breathing raggedly, tasting the salt of her tears and sweat. Her nails had broken the skin on her leg. Blood welled in the cuts, turning them into red crescent moons.

Slowly, Eugene eased her off of him and handed back the clothes she'd tossed on the ground. His eyes never left hers. The concern in them twisted a knife in her belly.

"Mason," he said. "It's just me. I'm here. It's just me."

She nodded, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her jeans. "I know. I know." She just kept saying it. She couldn't stop. She was barely breathing and she wasting those breaths.

Eugene grabbed her as she swayed. "Breathe, May. Count with me- in, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four."

She obeyed, shivering. He put his coat back on her shoulders and held her close. But though her breathing returned to normal, she could not stop seeing it. She could not stop seeing Negan, making her kneel, claiming her as his own...

"I'm going to kill him," Eugene said.

It took her a moment to look at him. Everything felt strange, like she was moving through mud. He stared straight ahead, his eyes distant. Like he was picturing it. The ice had returned. It was in every rigid line of his body.

"When we win this war...when we free Alexandria...we are going to take him alive," he said. "And then I am going to kill him. Day by day. Inch by inch."

 _When we win..._

"You may have to fight me for that honor," she rasped. Her head throbbed, right in that special hell between drunk and hungover.

He grinned but there was nothing civilized about it. "We can tag-team it."

"Sounds like a date."

There was a brief silence in which Mason felt...wrong. Like the deep, persistent ache of growing pains, but in her lungs, her brain, her heart. Like gunpowder a spark away from combustion.

"Don't do this."

She blinked. Eugene was still watching the woods, but the way his voice trembled, the fear there...

"Do what?" she whispered.

"Please, don't...don't destroy yourself. Don't leave."

That knife twisted again in her stomach. She grabbed his hand.

"I'm not leaving. I'm not."

And it didn't feel like a lie saying it, but...that _wrongness_ pressed its teeth into the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"What in the hell could you possibly have to be sorry for?"

"Everything. The training. Tonight..."

"Mason, we don't have to have sex until you're ready. I'll wait for you forever."

Too good. He was too good for her. She was just this filthy, broken _thing_ , and she was going to end up breaking him, too...

"It's okay-"

"No!"

She leapt to her feet, her hands shaking, her teeth worrying her lower lip until she tasted blood. Eugene stared at her.

"It's _not_ okay," she hissed. "He fucked with this, too, don't you see? He fucked with _this_. I can't...I can't stop _seeing_ him. He's like a fucking _plague_."

"Mason..."

His heart was breaking. She could hear it in his voice. For her.

She shook her head furiously, spinning tears into the dark. "We were supposed to live in Alexandria for the rest of our lives," she said. "We were supposed to sit on our rooftop and watch our garden grow. We were supposed to get married, we were supposed to be _happy_."

Tears ran down his face, too. "I know."

Her fingers clenched and unclenched. She needed sleep. She needed unconsciousness or she was going to...

Going to what?

"Let's get back to the house," she said.

But even as she hiked back up the mountain, even with Eugene at her side, she could not escape that sense of building wrongness. It shadowed her all the way back to the house.

~m~

"Okay, but I'm just saying, why do we have to train today? We're all hungover. _You_ look like fucking roadkill and I'd really rather you not puke on me."

Mason glared at Tanner from behind the sunglasses Dave had lent her. Even with them, the light of the fluroescents was ungodly. A few of the misfits giggled but quickly shut up when she turned that glare on them.

"I'm not going to puke on you, Tanner, but the more you talk the stronger my temptation to stick your head in a toilet."

"Aw, but that's such a good look on _you_. Toilet chic."

The fire, the bloodlust...it twitched within her. Like an animal waking at the scent of fresh blood. Eugene eyed her where he leaned against the wall but she ignored him.

"Alright, you're up first for sparring. Don't talk shit unless you're willing to back it up."

Tanner snorted, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. "Dude, whatever. I just want to get this over with."

It was clear from the get-go that neither of them were at their prime. Their movements were sluggish, and it took longer than Mason was comfortable with to get the upper hand.

"Oh, what's wrong, princess?" Tanner said as they broke apart for a fifth time, already covered in sweat. "Can't handle your liquor?"

She said nothing, but inside her blood was roiling. Everything was like a razor blade to her nerves- her labored breathing, the sting of the sweat dripping into her eye, his inane taunts. The wrongness from last night tapped on her shoulder. _Whispered._

They came together and broke apart again, neither of them able to gain an advantage on the other. Which enraged her. The misfits watched silently, and _that_ enraged her. Everything...everything was too much, too loud, too raw.

"You're losing your edge, doll," Tanner said, grinning as he darted toward her.

And might as well have dragged a knife down her spine.

"Don't call me that," she hissed, bristling.

She was so caught off guard that Tanner was able to grab her and wrestle her into one of the holds she'd taught him.

"What, did I hit a nerve?" His breath was hot against her cheek, and the smell of his gum...

Cinnamon.

She went rigid.

Cinnamon and sweat and...

She couldn't breathe.

"Get off of me," she whispered.

"Wow, really? I finally get the upper hand and you can't even bow out? You're such a fucking-"

"Tanner."

It was Eugene's voice. It sounded dim through the fire barreling down her veins, screaming in her skull.

"I would advise you to let her go. Now."

"You two are such pussies. Can't handle a little friendly competition."

His arms were too tight around her, his skin too hot, too slick, and

everything

everything was bearing down on her

crushing her.

Everything that had been building inside her, since the beginning.

Since last night. Since their escape from the Saviors. Since playing Negan's wife, since fucking him, since having him parade her through the streets of Alexandria with her ear cut off.

Since Glenn and Abraham.

Since long before that.

She couldn't stand it. She couldn't hold herself together anymore.

With a vicious, animal roar, she exploded. She remembered slamming her head back into Tanner's, remembered bursting out of his grip and sending him to the floor and then...

And then everything was a heat haze. Everything was bright and blurry, everything smelled like cinnamon and smoke. Too hot. And she felt that _thing_ inside of her, that whispering, shadowy wrongness, and she needed to get it out, she needed it _out_ -

She barely heard the screams of the other misfits, barely felt the hands that tried to pry her away. There was screaming in her head, too; some that tried to get her to stop and some that urged her on.

Her fists were coming down, bloodying themselves on something, and she couldn't get them to stop, didn't want to.

She was violence. She was fire. She was knuckles and bared teeth.

" _MASON_."

A faint part of her, buried deep beneath the flames, recognized that voice. But it was not enough to reign her in.

A moment later, the owner of that voice wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up, pulling her off of the sobbing body beneath her.

She lashed out, breaking free of his grip. Her fist collided with something and he hissed in pain.

 _Eugene._

It was the only thing that could pull her back.

Finally,

finally,

the haze cleared enough for her to remember where she was, to see who was standing before her and what she'd done.

Eugene stood before her, angled defensively in front of the misfits. His hands were up- not to strike, but to catch any that she threw his way. Blood trickled down his nose to his chin and...

 _She_ had done that.

 _She_ had hurt him.

Her panting breaths caught in her throat, her fierce snarl melting into an expression of disbelief and horror.

She glanced down at her hands- bloody, bruised, trembling. A few feet away, Tanner was sprawled on the floor, his face so swollen, leaking so much red, that it was almost unrecognizable.

She had

she had done that.

Her lips quivered, tears burning a swift path down her cheeks. She backed away from Tanner, from Eugene and the misfits. Her whole body shook.

 _She_ was the wrongness creeping up her spine.

She was a monster.

Before anyone could speak, she darted for the garage doors and slipped out into the cold.

~m~

Eugene found her a few hours later, and she couldn't decide if she wanted him to or not. She couldn't decide what she was feeling at all aside from an overwhelming storm of guilt and fear.

He sat next to her. Neither of them said anything for a while, and she had to curb the urge to run. He'd cleaned the blood from his face but she could still see it. It played over and over in her head.

"He's going to be okay," Eugene finally said.

She sagged weakly. "That's good." She didn't know what else to say.

Eugene nodded quietly. Every inch of her prickled with shame.

"I could have killed him," she whispered.

"You know I wouldn't have let you," he replied.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He glanced at her then. Serious, but...there was no blame in his face. "Are you?"

She sighed shakily, looking down at her hands. She'd washed the blood from them in the snow, but she could still feel it...

"I think so," she said. "I...the fire's gone. Right now. But I think it will come back. I think it always will now."

It almost broke her to admit. That she would never be truly better. Not anymore.

Eugene grabbed her hand and held on so tightly, like he was trying to squeeze her shattered edges back together.

"It will," he said. "It is going to be there every day for the rest of your life. But I am going to help you. Every day. We will employ every trick in the book to get you through it, and I will see you to the other side. And on bad days, when that other side eludes us, I will be right there next to you in the dark."

She shook her head in despair. "I don't deserve you."

But he just smiled and cupped her face with his free hand. "We deserve each other. And we deserve that happy ending, rooftop and garden and all of it."

His gaze was so soft.

Warm.

She blinked. "How do you do it? Deal with...everything?"

"Denise said I had good coping mechanisms, and that I learned them at an early age. So I guess I have my mother to thank for something after all."

His voice was bitter, and the look he shared with her...

They both knew. Trauma did not make better people. People just fragmented into different shapes, and sometimes those shapes were stronger and sometimes they were weaker, sometimes kinder, sometimes meaner.

Mason did not want to think about her own shape.

Eugene shrugged. "Admittedly what works best for me may be incompatible with...your fire, you called it?" When she nodded, his expression became contemplative. "At it's most basic, it is really just aggregation. I shepherd all the negative shit into it's own special cage but I don't deny it. I let myself feel it, acknowledge it, and then I stow it in a safe place for future use. Because if I cannot get rid of it, I am certainly not going to let it eat me alive when I could fashion it into a weapon instead."

She stared at him. "Use everything you can use..." she whispered.

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry. About everything. I know I've been so horrible lately. And I _hurt_ you, god, _I hurt you_."

"It's okay, May, it's okay." He pressed his forehead to hers. "My nose is fine. I'm fine. All things being equal, it is _me_ who should apologize to you."

" _What_?"

"I...I saw what you were going through, and I thought...I thought it may be best if I gave you some space. I may handle my own emotional baggage with relative aptitude but I have no idea where to begin with someone else. I am no therapist. But I was wrong. I should never have let you feel as though you were alone in this. I'm sorry."

"I thought you...were done with me."

She felt so small and pathetic admitting it, but there it was.

"Mason, look at me."

She did. He held her gaze and there was not a hint of doubt, no guile anywhere in his face.

"That day we first met? When you materialized out of that cornfield like a no-joke angel of death? I knew I would fall in love with you. I knew that I shouldn't, I tried not to, but I knew that it was inevitable. I also knew that day that I could always look to you for guidance. That...that you were not just my protector, but my one true north. Mason, you were my hero. You still are. I don't just love you, I look up to you. You have always had my admiration. And I will never be done with you- with loving you, with any of it."

She didn't know she was holding her breath until she tried to speak and nothing came out.

He kissed her. Tenderly. And said, "I am never giving up on you."

She collapsed in his arms then, sobbing hard enough that it hurt. But he held her so tightly that she didn't feel broken at all.

~m~

Tanner was awake when she went in to see him. She ignored the little voice- her own, thankfully- that told her to flee and instead sat in the hospital bed next to his. He stared at her the whole time through his good eye- his other was swollen shut. Her stomach churned at the sight of the damage she'd done.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to do...that. I-I just...there's been a lot that I...I can't..."

She might have stammered on forever, getting more and more lost in saying nothing, had Tanner not held out his hand. Not to stop her, but as if he wanted her to take it.

"I get really douchey when I feel like...I'm not in control," he rasped thickly. "I was responsible for the others. I was scared shitless that it would happen again, you know? Except this time it would be on _my_ watch. And I can't deal with that shit, man, I just can't. These people...I thought they were losers before, when we all went to high school together. But now they're the only people for me, you know?"

He stretched his hand out further. "You beat the shit out of me, and I deserved it, and now it's done. I'm a major ass but I know when to step back."

Another heartbeat, and she took his hand. He squeezed it briefly.

"You're in charge, Mason. You and Eugene. You're both obviously better qualified than me and I'm going to trust you."

Mason shook her head, laughing weakly. "Huh. I guess I should violently pummel you more often."

"Guess you should. I certainly had fun."

"Tanner, I really am sorry."

"Yeah, I know. And...me, too."

Mason let go of his hand. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

"Oh, sweet. Are we gonna do that whole guilty servant thing? You know, like I casually remind you how you broke my face and you bake me cookies?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yep, still an asshole. Also, you do not want me baking anything. You go to Eugene for that, he makes a mean blackberry cobbler."

"You sure? You could dress up in some slinky nurse outfit-"

"Alright, I'm done." She hopped from the bed.

"Probably a good idea. Hurts to talk and I really want to sleep, but I was waiting up for you."

"Get some rest. I want you at the tippy-top of you strength so I can continue to kick your ass."

He laughed briefly, though the sound was tight with pain. "You got it, boss."

She turned to leave but paused. "Uh, also? Would you mind maybe...not chewing that cinnamon gum? At least- at least around me?"

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks," she said and left him to rest.

Everyone else was waiting for her in the living room. She knew they would be, Eugene had warned her beforehand, but she couldn't help feeling a rush of nerves at the sight of them standing shoulder to shoulder. Like they expected her to attack. Only Eugene appeared relaxed, giving her a smile that was both encouraging and smug, like he knew how everything was going to play out. Smirky bastard.

She halted a healthy distance from them, hands clasped timidly in front of her. "Hey, guys."

None of them said anything, waiting for her to continue. And it hurt looking at their faces, knowing what she knew now. That she _did_ care about them, and that she was going to worry about them whether she wanted to or not, and that was just who she was. She bled for people.

"So..." She sighed shakily. "Guys, I'm sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry and I know...I know that doesn't make anything better, and there's no excuse for what I did, but I'm gonna say it anyway because... I care about you all."

Even Eugene wasn't expecting that. She tried not to get distracted by the delighted surprise on his face and forced herself to continue.

"I-I know, I have a funny way of showing it, um..."

 _Just tell them. Just say it._

"Guys, I'm really fucked up. Sometimes I don't know how to handle it. But I'm going to learn. I'm going to heal as much as I can. And I'm certainly not going to take my shit out on you. Not anymore, I'm done with that. I really am sorry."

Still no one said anything and Mason began to fidget. Maybe there was no salvaging things. Maybe she should just bow out.

"Well, uhm. I'm gonna...I'm gonna just-"

"Mason," Renee said. Her expression was unreadable. "We're not going to tolerate that shit. Okay? I realize Tanner was out of line, and I know that things have been overwhelming for you. But he is our family, and you weren't going to stop."

Mason nodded, glancing down at her feet. She was right, of course. Mason wouldn't blame any of them if they felt they couldn't trust her anymore.

"But we care about you, too," Renee continued. "We want you as part of our family."

"We've always wanted our own personal psycho," Charlie said.

And then they smiled at her- tentative, wary, but kind.

They were so good. They could be her family, too.

She smiled back, blinking ridiculous tears from her eyes. Eugene was beaming at her from across the room.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Dave stepped forward then, holding his arms out in invitation. "Bring it in, psycho."

She hugged him, forgetting any reason not to. And then Renee was there, wrapping her arms around both of them. And Dray and Charlie and Ashlee. Holding her in the center of them.

Holding her up.


	8. Feel it Still

Hey, guys, so I'm just going to start this off with an apology: there is _a lot_ of shameless fluff in this chapter. Like, you'll probably roll your eyes a little bit, but hopefully it will also make you smile. I just really felt that after all the heaviness and the angst there needed to be a little bit of a breather- but don't worry, if this rots your teeth out, the next chapters coming up are going to make up for it with quite a bit of action (yay!). Anyway, today's chapter song is "Feel it Still" by Portugal. The Man, and you've probably heard this song before but if not it's totally rad, check it out. Also, I mention another song ("Science Fiction" by Bassnectar); it's _so fucking good_ , I highly, highly recommend. As always, super huge thank you for the reviews and support, you guys are truly the best! Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think!

8\. Feel it Still

 **Mason**

She uncoiled the extension cord as she walked, slowly and methodically, to the trees where she planned to set up. Her iPod was tucked in her pocket, her fire poker and a bow and quiver of arrows slung on her back. The ground squelched beneath her boots, snow melt and mud glistening in the sun.

The stereo system was waiting for her in the copse. She'd snatched the whole thing earlier from Dray's room and carried it out while the sun was rising. Everyone else would have been out on their morning run at the time, and part of her had longed to be with them.

She hooked the cord up to the speakers, and then her iPod. It took her a few minutes to pick the perfect song, but when she did she turned the volume up high and settled down with her back against a tree.

It was a perfect day. The winter had been rough, unforgivingly cold, but today was an apology. Sunlight glinted through the mesh work of tree limbs above. A warm breeze washed the chill from the air. The whole world felt softer.

Several songs cycled through before the walkers started showing up, lurching in from all directions. Mason smiled a bit, humming while she drew her bow and casually nocked an arrow. She didn't intend to use it, but just in case.

The walkers closed in and Mason didn't move except to nod her head to the music. When they were only a couple feet away, a whistle sounded through the trees.

Seven figures leapt out from all sides around the copse, moving with impressive synchronized precision. Mason grinned and jumped to her feet, bow poised while she examined their performance.

There were weapons on their belts but they didn't use them. They didn't kill any of the walkers. Instead they moved from one to the other, binding their arms with rope which they then bound to the next walker and the next, until there was a solid chain of them.

Mason didn't have to step in at all. She stood back and watched proudly as the Misfits finished up, all of them moving with practiced fluidity.

When the last walker was bound, Dave whipped around to face her, eyes wide. "What the fuck was _that_?"

She laughed. "You like it? It's called "Science Fiction" by Bassnectar."

"We promised we'd share any and all super rad songs with each other."

"I'm sorry, I thought we were waiting on Eugene to draft up a contract."

"Why am I always the lawyer?" Eugene said from where he stood, holding on to one end of the walker chain.

Mason smiled at him and he smiled back. Their silent subtext filled her with warmth, like stepping out of a shadow into the sunlight.

Tanner made a gagging noise. "Oh my god, _stop_ looking at each other like that and let's get back to the house. I'm fucking starving."

"Anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue?" Eugene said.

"No, I don't think I've ever heard that one before, O Great All-Knowing One," Tanner snarked.

"I prefer 'Your Omniscience', but..." Eugene shrugged. "Semantics."

"Arrogant ass..."

"I don't know if I'd call my ass _arrogant_. Occasionally smug, perhaps, but-"

"Jesus Christ, _shut up_."

Eugene winked at Mason, who grinned impishly. Fucking with Tanner was their new favorite hobby.

"So you think we've got enough now?" Charlie said. She shook the other end of the walker chain for emphasis.

"Yeah, I'd say we do," Mason replied. "Honestly, we're probably going a bit overboard. Know how many walkers it takes to stop an RV? 'Bout eight. _This_ is gonna be epic."

"Red rover, red rover," Eugene murmured.

~m~

"Mmm...you know...Dray's waiting for us."

"Let him wait."

Mason smiled as Eugene sucked gently at her neck before trailing back up to kiss her on the mouth. She cupped his face with one hand, cradled the nape of his neck with the other.

"I love this," she murmured, rubbing her thumb over the scruffle on his cheeks.

"Brace yourself, Siren. I am fully and categorically committed to growing it out to wizard level."

"Okay, Gandalf."

"Does that make you my hobbit? Because you are most definitely short enough-"

"Okay." Mason slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his laughter. "Making cracks about my height is not foreplay."

"Well, damn, Mason, don't dismantle my whole system. I have a step by step process. One: joke about ridiculously adorable shortness. Two: put things on the top shelf so that she has to climb onto the counter to retrieve them. Three-"

"You asshole, _you're_ the one who kept putting my tea on top of the fridge?"

Eugene grinned. "Who else?"

"I thought it was Abraham!"

"Well, he did when I was otherwise detained. If it makes you feel any better, he _did_ think it was just as hilarious as I thought it was."

"It doesn't."

In her head, Abraham cackled.

 _Shut the hell up, you shady ginger._

Mason uncurled herself from Eugene's lap and rolled gracelessly out of bed. "C'mon, stud bucket, let's make ourselves presentable for the children."

"But I like you with your shirt off."

"That's the only time, huh?"

"Of course, what other reason is there to like somebody?"

They grinned at each other, donning the clothes they'd scattered on the floor just a while ago.

They still hadn't had sex. Two and a half months from that night they'd tried and Mason still could not bear to go all the way. Each time she thought she might attempt it, her mind flooded with images of Negan. There had been multiple occasions when Eugene had had to coax her back from these waking nightmares, just as there were multiple occasions when she'd awake in a cold sweat, convinced that she was back in that compound, in that murderous prick's bed...

But Eugene would always snuggle closer, snoring into the back of her neck, and she would remember. She was out. They'd gotten out. And she was getting better.

Slowly. Painfully. But she was making improvements. There had been no more outbursts of violence, though she could still feel it, moving under her skin like a snake. After the day she'd made up with the Misfits, she'd taken Dray up on his offer to teach her meditation, and every day since then she'd spent at least an hour meditating with him and Ashlee.

In addition to that, she'd taken Eugene's advice to heart. Caging her anger, her fire...it wasn't easy. It was an endless struggle. But...it worked for her. At times, when it threatened to burst the seams of that cage, she purged her aggression savaging walkers in the woods. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't going to eat her alive. It was her weapon now.

"I really do love this," she said now, kissing Eugene's scruffle. "But I miss this." She ran her fingers through his hair, which remained short. He'd asked her to keep it trimmed over the months, to which she'd reluctantly agreed.

He peered at her. "You saying you only loved me for my mullet?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. You're like a god out of some southern Gothic fairytale with that style."

"War hair," he reminded her with a small smile. "Soon as we conquer this crusade, I assure you the mullet will be my first priority."

"It better be or I walk."

"I completely understand."

His mock solemnity made her giggle. "For real, Eep, you ready?"

A bit of nervousness touched his features but he nodded determinedly. "As Spongebob Squarepants."

She hooked her pinky finger through his. "You're a tough motherfucker, you got this."

The others were waiting for them in the garage, milling about and chattering excitedly. Two chairs sat in the middle of the room, as well as a table laden with Dray's supplies. Eugene paled a bit at the sight of them.

"You're not gonna pass out on me, are you?" Mason said.

He grimaced. "Truly, I do not understand how I can endure infinitely more unsavory ordeals and yet this makes me queasy."

Mason thought she knew why- that needles reminded him of hospitals and hospitals reminded him of his mother- but she didn't say it. Instead she said, "Hey, if you don't want to do this, that's totally cool. I'll draw it on your wrist with a marker every day, I don't care."

"No, I want this. I swear I'm fine so long as I don't think too much about it."

"And I swear to distract you." She bumped her Wolf scar encouragingly against his.

Eugene went first to get it over with and Mason kept her word, sitting cross-legged on the floor at his feet while she distracted him with riddles and jokes.

And, at one point, a marital suggestion.

"Seriously, if we could find one of those inflatable obstacle courses wouldn't that be a perfect fucking wedding ceremony?" she said. "You and I recite our vows as we're running through it and then at the end we say 'I do'? Um, _yes_."

Dave slung an arm over her shoulder. "This one's a keeper, Eugene."

"Ooh, ooh! And then instead of a first dance you guys could be the first ones in the bouncy castle!" Ashlee exclaimed.

Mason pointed at her. "Yes! Alright, cool, we've got this all figured out."

Eugene smiled, wincing a bit as Dray worked. "So long as I end up married to you."

"Oh, barf," Tanner said.

"Don't tempt me," Eugene replied tightly, refusing to look at his wrist.

But a little while later, Dray was finished and Eugene was showing off his new tattoo, the simple black arrow that was sibling to the Misfits' tattoos.

Mason received hers after him, chatting casually with the other Misfits while Dray marked her officially as one of their own.

When her own tattoo was finished, the Misfits fell silent. As one they regarded her and Eugene before laying their fists over their hearts.

"Welcome to the tribe, losers," Charlie said.

Grinning, Mason and Eugene copied them.

"Glad to be here," Eugene said.

~m~

"Wait, wait, okay, okay. I got a truth for you guys."

Dave held his hands up for silence. He, Mason, Ashlee and Charlie were sitting in a circle in the living room, waiting for the others to finish cooking dinner. Mason's iPod played in the background. Each of them had already had a cup of wine for the occasion and from the sound of Dave's voice it meant to go straight to their heads.

"This may be inappropriate but I don't care because we're all friends here and I'm buzzing like a bee," he said. "Mason. Babe. Eugene has got one fine ass."

Ashlee and Charlie hooted while Mason gaped in mock anger.

"Stop objectifying my little cinnamon roll!"

Dave giggled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but that ass needs to be on postcards."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I mean...he's not wrong," Ashlee giggled shyly.

"I'd buy that in a souvenir shop," Charlie agreed.

" _Guys_!" Mason exclaimed. "Oh my god."

"Don't worry, Mason, we like looking at your ass, too," Charlie said.

"It's pretty sweet," Ashlee said.

"Your butt and Eugene's butt are goals," Dave said.

"Okay, guys, shut up..."

Dave pointed. "See! See how easy it is to make her blush?"

"I'm not blushing!" But she ducked her head because she knew she was. "It's the wine."

"Oh, come off it, Mason, you can't hide your little secret from us anymore," Charlie said.

"Um, what secret?"

"That you act tough but really you're just an easily embarrassed softie."

"Our precious Worryin' Warrior," Dave agreed, nodding sagely.

Mason glared at them. "Stop calling me that. I could throw you all to the sharks, no problem. My heart is stone."

" _Bullshit_ ," Tanner's voice sounded from behind her. "You're an overprotective dork and everyone knows it."

Before she could turn around, Tanner seized her arms and the others moved as if this was a signal. Mason squeaked as the four of them began to tickle her.

"No, stop!" she pleaded. "C-c' _mon_ , guys, I-I can't-"

But she was laughing too hard to finish. Eventually she managed to wriggle free, scrambling away to hide behind the couch while the others grinned triumphantly. She huffed in frustration. It had been a dark day when they'd first discovered this particular chink in her armor and they'd refused to let her live it down.

"What the hell, guys? Eugene is literally just as ticklish as me, why don't you gang up on _him_?"

"We do!" Dave said.

"But everyone already knows _he's_ a softie," Charlie said. "It's funnier ganging up on you."

"Fuck you all. Seriously- sky high."

"It's a date, princess," Tanner replied.

"At the risk of interrupting what looks to be either an attempted orgy or an impending massacre..."

All of them turned at the sound of Eugene's snarky drawl. He raised an eyebrow, nodding in the direction of the kitchen.

"Dinner's ready. Next time it's ya'll's turn to make it."

"You mean it's Ashlee and Dave's turn?" Tanner said. "Cuz if it's just Mason and me..."

Eugene patted him on the shoulder. "You'll burn the whole mountain down, I know."

Mason flipped him off as she hurried into the kitchen with the others.

~m~

"Wait a minute, _what_ was that?"

Tanner set down his cup of wine and motioned to Mason, who grimaced back at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just gonna need you to say that again-"

"I said I'm really proud of you guys," she repeated. "You've come a lot farther than I thought you would in the beginning and I was wrong to ever doubt you."

Tanner clapped obnoxiously. " _Man_. Bet that tastes bitter coming out, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, you drunk idiot. It's the truth, and anyway I love you guys, so...yeah."

Eugene glanced at her, his expression both tender and proud.

And of course she was blushing. Like the easily embarrassed dork she was, apparently...

"Were we easier to train than Eugene?" Dave asked.

"Jesus, yes."

Eugene blinked. "Hey, now," he protested.

"Eugene, I literally had to teach you how to run."

Renee spluttered mid-sip. " _What_?"

Eugene scowled and drank his wine, pretending to ignore them. Mason grinned.

"He didn't move his arms when he ran, he just kept them stiff at his sides," she said.

"It was strategic," Eugene said. "And while we're telling stories: hey, Mason, remember the time you tried to jump that fence and your pants caught on the chain link?"

The other Misfits howled. Mason narrowed her eyes at the challenge in Eugene's smirk.

"Hey, Eugene, remember the time you fell on your back in the mud and when you tried to get up you slipped again and fell on your face?"

They continued this back and forth for a while, until the Misfits were crying with laughter.

"So...so, wait, you're telling me..." Tanner wheezed. "You're telling me that you to absolute _klutzes_ also happen to be two of the most impressive fighters I've ever met? Like...the fuck? _How does that happen_?"

"Well, I'll tell you how, good sir, it is very simple," Eugene replied and began counting on his fingers: "Motivation. Determination. Perspiration. One nation. Under God. Indivisible. With liberty and justice for all."

The Misfits broke down in another fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, Gene Bean, you're drunk," Mason snickered.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you start communicating exclusively through rhymes, puns and random-ass tangents."

"That doesn't sound like me. I would never partake in such hickory dickery."

"Oh my god, seriously, stop, if I laugh anymore I'm gonna fucking explode," Tanner said. "Ugh. By the way, totally fucking excellent food, you guys. Way to use those flavor changers."

"The fuck... _flavor changers_?" Mason said.

"Yeah, you know...that shit you put in food to...you know, like salt and pepper and shit?"

"...Spices?"

"Yes! That's what I was trying for."

"Wow. For the first time, I'm not the drunkest person in the room."

After dinner, since they were the least inebriated, Mason and Renee ended up doing the dishes. They smiled as they listened to the other Misfits, getting up to some kind of hell in the living room.

"Tonight might be the night those idiots finally destroy my house," Renee said.

"Honestly, I don't know how you've dodged that bullet for so long."

Renee smiled as she scrubbed at a chipped orange-and-purple plate. "This was the first plate I ever bought for myself," she said. "When my dad kicked me out, all I had as far as kitchenware was a pot someone threw out, those flimsy plastic forks they give you when you order takeout, one single red cup I kept rewashing and this plate. It was the only nice thing in my crappy apartment for the longest time.

"Then that Christmas, the other Misfits chipped in to buy me real kitchenware. They couldn't afford much- we all were just sad, broke kids- but that was the happiest Christmas I've ever had. We christened my new plates with the cheapest fast food money could buy and got high and decorated each other in Christmas lights."

Mason smiled, too. "That sounds like an awesome Christmas."

Renee nodded. The plate was clean but she kept scrubbing at it absently. "Do you ever miss Kansas?" she finally asked.

"Actually, yeah. I mean, I know it kind of sounds lame but the place where I lived was really pretty."

"Do you think you'll ever try to go back there?"

Mason blinked. "I...I don't know. If it happens, it happens, I guess. But really my home now is wherever my family is."

Renee ducked her head. "Do you mean your old family or...us?"

The timidness with which she asked the question, so un-Renee-like, startled Mason for a moment. But her response came without a second thought.

"Both," she said firmly. "You guys _are_ my family. And I can't wait for you to meet the rest of them."

Renee's smile was dazzling, grateful. "Me, too." Her eyes shone a moment longer, and then she continued, "Um, but, after all of this is over, what's the plan? I mean, where will you go?"

"Home, I suppose, but...shit, I'm sorry, we haven't really talked about this. Would you want to stay here?"

"Oh, no, no, I think we're all pretty antsy for a change of scenery. We owe this house our lives, but it sort of became a prison."

"Well, you're all more than welcome in Alexandria..." Mason frowned. "But you look like you have something else to say."

"I'm...not really sure how to say it."

"Ren. Just try me."

Renee sighed. "Look, I've been thinking about this for a long time, and ever since we cleared the horde it's actually become more than some impossible dream. Mason, after the war, we want to go to California."

At first Mason didn't absorb the words.

Then they hit her like a slap.

"You...what?"

"I've planned out the route, I've talked to the others and they're on board, I even asked Eugene to help calculate everything we would need-"

"Wait, Eugene knows?"

"Don't be mad at him, Mason, I asked him not to say anything."

"No, I'm not mad, I just..." She swallowed. "That's a really long trip. Like, a _really_ long trip."

"Two thousand six hundred some miles, yeah."

"Can I ask why? I mean, is it just because you guys all met there or...? Do you think it would be a good place to live?"

Renee hesitated. "Has Charlie told you about Naomi yet? Or Chris?"

"Um. No. Who...?"

"Naomi's her sister. And Chris was Naomi's fiancee."

"Was?"

"Charlie killed him."

Mason flinched. "Oh. Shit. Should you...I mean, is she gonna care that you're telling me this?"

"Charlie doesn't like to talk about it herself. She's just not great at talking about shit like that, and I wouldn't mention it around her unless you really have to, but... She wants you to know. She doesn't wants secrets between her family."

Briefly, Mason's attention flickered to the living room. All she could hear was laughter. The others seemed very far away from this conversation.

"Look, Chris was a bad dude. A very bad dude. Naomi was with him for three years, and the whole time Charlie suspected that he was abusive but she could never prove it. Naomi certainly never admitted it. It wasn't until the world went to shit that she found out for certain. She and Naomi lived in a tinderbox with that bastard for a couple weeks while everything was falling apart, and somewhere in that time she walked in on him choke-slamming Naomi onto the kitchen table."

"Jesus..."

"Yeah, and this particular time it was because he'd just found out she was pregnant."

" _What_?"

"Yep. Apparently she told him and he freaked out, had a few too many to drink and decided it was _her_ fault. Nothing at all to do with him. Charlie got in the middle of it, of course, so Chris beat the shit out of _her_. I guess apparently Naomi was pleading with him the whole time to stop and he only did once Charlie was unconscious.

"After that, she planned to kill him. We all did, once we saw what he'd done to her. Dray wanted blood. It was the only time I'd ever seen him truly enraged and it actually kind of scared me. But Charlie told us to stay out of it; we were all scrambling to figure out how and where to find our families to make the journey here, and besides, she wanted to do it herself."

Mason could picture it clearly, the stubborn vengeance on Charlie's face. She felt her blood warm with understanding.

"Chris refused to help with the preparations for the journey because he didn't trust anyone else. He would have kept Naomi and Charlie locked in that shitty house for the rest of their miserable lives if he'd been left to his own devices. After getting all the shock out of his system, he became violently possessive of Naomi and the baby. In the end, I think it kind of drove him crazy. On the day we all left for Virginia, he lost it completely.

"Charlie came home from seeing us off to find him beating Naomi, and not just beating her, but like... Like he was going to kill her. Like he wanted her dead. She jumped him, tried to pull him off, but he was too strong for her to fight hand-to-hand. When he was done with her, he tossed her on the floor and left her for dead."

Mason closed her eyes and reminded herself that Charlie was just fine. She was alive, and with people who loved her.

"She waited until he'd turned his back on her. He hadn't noticed in his frenzy that she'd stolen the gun off his belt. Before he could touch her sister again, she shot him in the throat, and then in the head."

Good. Mason's chest swelled with grim pride. But...

"What about her sister?" she said. "What...happened to her?"

"When she came to, she saw Chris's body and she just...lost it. She tried..." Renee's lips thinned, her onyx eyes flashing. "She tried to kill Charlie. Forced her out of the house when she couldn't do it and told her never to come back. So Charlie had to find us on her own. Barely survived."

"But she did," Mason murmured, half to herself. Then she shook her head. "But...now she wants to find her sister." It wasn't a question.

"She wants to try," Renee clarified. "She knows...she knows what kind of a long shot it is, but if Naomi is alive and she isn't in her right mind...that baby is Charlie's blood. I know it's haunted her since she left. She needs closure. Besides, Eugene made a good point when we talked to him about this. He said that it's probably likely a lot of California is abandoned- by the living, anyway. Obviously there are going to be a lot of decomps, but that's sort of a good thing- people make their homes as far from them as possible now, and since it's _people_ who are the worse threat..."

Mason frowned, calculating in her head. He was right- all the groups they encountered now made their homes in the least populated areas. Well, except for-

"Eugene did tell me about Grady Memorial," Renee continued, and Mason flinched. "But he said places like that are anomalous and likely finite. I think he referred to it as an ouroboros- the snake eating it's own tail?"

It took a moment for Mason to respond, because in her head she was back outside that hospital, watching the others trail out one by one until it was just Daryl carrying Beth...

"Um." She cleared her throat. "Um, yeah, he's probably right. Who knows if Grady's even still...you know...around."

 _They've eaten each other by now._

Beth's low voice, usually so sweet, shot her veins full of ice.

"I'm sorry this is all so out of the blue," Renee said. "I just didn't know how to tell you... Look, we can talk about this later if you want, I just wanted to give you a head's up that...that we're seriously considering this."

Anguish splintered her chest. _This is why you don't get attached!_ she told herself furiously.

"I'll make the journey with you," she said rashly. "I'll get you there."

"And then what? Make the return journey by yourself?"

"Eugene will be with me," Mason answered, and she had no doubt that he would be. They were a package deal. "I'll do it. I'll get you there."

But Renee shook her head. "Your family is here. They need you. And we...we _love_ you, Mason. You and Eugene. And because of you, we're strong enough to make the journey ourselves."

"You are. But the reason I agreed to train you guys in the first place was to fight in _my_ war. My family needs me, yes. You are part of that family, and you're risking your lives for us. Taking you to California is the least I can do."

She wouldn't think about after. She wouldn't think about any of it too closely. Not now.

"Mason." Tears glistened in Renee's eyes.

She didn't acknowledge those tears, either. Instead she pulled Renee in for a rough hug and said, "C'mon, the rest of these dishes can wait. Besides, I'm tired of wearing this fucking glove."

She ripped off the rubber glove in question, which she'd only worn to protect the new little tattoo on her wrist, the one that meant she was officially a Misfit, even though now-

 _Stop. Enjoy tonight. Think about it later._

She slung an arm over Renee's shoulder. "Let's help those idiots destroy this house."

Renee eyed her worriedly and opened her mouth to speak, but Eugene's startled yelp interrupted her, followed by cheering from the rest of the Misfits. They hurried out of the kitchen to investigate, and the sight that greeted them flooded Mason with such warmth that for a moment it swept away her despair.

The other Misfits had Eugene pinned on the floor, and were tickling him so mercilessly that tears ran down his face.

Her family.

Dave gave Mason a cheerful smile. "See? We gang up on him, too."

"God...god _dammit,_ Mason!" Eugene cried through hiccuping bursts of laughter. "You...t-t- _traitor_!"

Mason grinned while he squirmed and tried desperately to curl into a ball. "Sorry, Gene Bean, but there are no loyalties in a tickle fight."

"I-it- It's not a f-fight, it's-" He cut off with a shriek so adorable she melted.

"Okay, guys, let's not kill our favorite scientist," she said. Reluctantly the Misfits let up.

" _Fake_ scientist," Charlie said.

"I bet he could be a real scientist if he wanted to be," Dave protested.

"Oh, totes," Mason agreed. "He sets people on fire all the time."

"Once," Eugene corrected from where he lay face down on the floor. "...Well, okay, twice, if you count myself."

"Wait, _what_?"

"A couple times, to be accurate."

Mason gaped at him. "Why am I just now hearing about this?"

"You never asked if I'd ever lit myself on fire."

"Tell the story, tell the story!" Ashlee said.

Tanner rubbed his hands together like he was about to gorge himself on a delicious dessert. "Oh, yeah, I gotta hear this shit."

"Glad that you're all so thrilled to hear of my near-incineration."

So they all huddled close in the living room, swapping stories and laughing at each other, and it was almost easy. Almost easy to forget.

~m~

"So. Renee told you."

Mason looked up from her final preparations for tomorrow. She and Eugene had left the other Misfits asleep in the living room and now, as a wave of exhaustion consumed her, she wished she were dreaming on the floor next to them.

"How did you know?"

Eugene blinked kindly. "You're an open book, Mason, remember?"

"Am I ever gonna be able to lie to you?"

"Probably not."

She sighed and stuffed her supplies in her rucksack. Then she flopped on her back next to Eugene, who flopped down, too.

"I told her I'd take her there," she said.

"To California?" He didn't sound surprised enough.

"Yeah."

"I thought you would. Renee did, too. That was part of the reason she was so hesitant to confide in you."

"I'm sorry. I mean, I'll do it, but I don't want you to feel like you have to-"

"Wherever you go, I go. I thought that was a given."

With another, desperate sigh, she flipped onto her side to face him. "Eugene, really, what the hell do we do? I mean- I mean, we can't ask them to stay if they feel they need to go, it wouldn't be fair, but..." Her eyes burned. "Dammit, this was what I was trying to avoid!"

"I know, May. I'm sorry."

"Even if we go with them, what if they decide to stay? We can't abandon Alexandria. But these are our people, too."

Tears cut a path down her cheeks. The full scope of this turn of events finally descended on her, and she felt the weight of it keenly. Her bones creaked with it. Her chest hurt, her stomach hurt. She leaned her forehead against Eugene's and wept softly.

"Why are we always letting people go?" she whispered.

"I wish I had an answer, May," Eugene rasped, brushing her tears away with kisses.

She didn't let herself cry for long. Tomorrow was the First Day, tomorrow was Step One, and they both needed their sleep. Eugene and his advice, it turned out, always came through in the clutch. With a bit of effort, she was able to lock away the thought of her Misfits leaving in the same cage with her fire. There would be time to think about things later. She could not allow herself to be distracted now.

They held each other close as they drifted off. Tomorrow was the Rebirth.

They would both be coming back from the dead.

 **Alpha**

"I really think we should reconsider..."

Alpha glared venomously at Murph, limping as she carried the last gas canister to the truck. Her eyes glinted, half-crazed with stubbornness.

"You want to stay here, fine" she hissed. "Stay. I won't be coming back for you. You'll have no one for company but the dead."

"Please don't say that, miss," Murph said pitifully. "Please, we're friends. I'm just concerned this may be dangerous."

"Only if you don't follow my lead. But if you do come with me, I swear to you right now- I will fucking kill you if you fuck this up for me, understand? I'm through with that shit."

Murph's chin trembled but he nodded frantically. "I understand. I-I will follow your lead, yes. I'm only concerned about your safety."

Alpha scowled as she climbed into the front seat. _Sentiment._

"Don't be, I got this shit handled. Now get in."


	9. Lay Me Down

Hello, friends, I am back with another chapter and pretty excited to get into this part of the story. Little bit of a warning, both for violence and adult content- nothing too terrible, really, but still. Today's chapter song is "Lay Me Down" by The Dirty Heads feat. Rome of Sublime. Awesome song and perfect for Mason and Eugene. As always, super huge thank you for reviewing and supporting, ya'll are honestly the best. I hope to have the next chapter up fairly soon, but until then, let me know what you think!

9\. Lay Me Down

 **Alpha**

They arrived a few hours before dawn, parking the truck as close to the wall as they dared. There were no sentries anymore, except for two at the front gate, and she doubted any of the others would awaken and discover them. Even so, her heart thudded with adrenaline as she carried the gas on her back and scaled the wall.

She had to do this seven times, as she could only carry one canister at a time, and then two more times for the collection of booze. Murph had an impressive hoard of gasoline, and since he never went anywhere anymore it was pretty much all at her disposal. But that didn't mean she should use it all at once. They'd made a pit stop at the liquor store on the way here, and though it pained her not to keep it for herself, she didn't consider this a waste.

Murph spidered up the wall after her, quite nimble for such a fragile-looking man. His eyes flickered about constantly; she had no doubt he would warn her if he saw anything amiss, so she set to work.

There was not enough gasoline- or booze, for that matter- to target every house, but that was no matter. She had planned to cut through them with an X. There might be some things left to salvage once she was done, but not enough.

She was careful, methodical, making sure that where one trail of liquid ended it was then joined with the next. Murph followed along with his rifle, and she was pleasantly surprised by his silence. She'd sort of been expecting him to lose his cool halfway through.

She finished just as the first dawn light split the sky. The timing made her smile. Even the sun wanted to see her work.

"Alright," she murmured, nodding to Murph. "You have your matches?"

"Yes, miss."

"Then go."

Once he had disappeared, she pulled her own book of matches from her jacket pocket and struck the first one. Its acrid tang made her nerves prickle with restless energy. On the opposite side of the community, Murph was lighting his own match, just like they'd discussed.

She pressed its yellow, flickering tongue to the end of the trail and watched the flames spread.

 **Mason**

They arrived at the factory just before dawn, her, Eugene, Dave and Ashlee. The other Misfits were still up the mountain, gathering the first batch of walkers among other things, and wouldn't be joining them for a while.

They were silent as they snuck into the building. Mason noticed Eugene pause once they were inside, his eyes going a bit distant.

She nudged him. "You alright?"

He blinked. "Yes. Sorry. Just remembering something."

She frowned but didn't push it. "Guys, you got your casings?"

Ashlee and Dave nodded in unison.

"Alright, try not to blow your faces off."

"Yes, _Mom_ ," Dave replied.

While they set to work, Mason ran a last minute check on their supplies. Rope, flares, metal cord, smoke bombs that Eugene had taught them all to make on the fly... They only had a few guns; the others would be bringing the rest since they had more room in the truck.

Today they were making bullets from casings they'd scavenged in the RV park, and recycling the few they'd been forced to use over the winter. Eugene had showed them all the process, but Dave and Ashlee were the most adept at it. Meanwhile the rest of the Misfits would be arranging the walkers they'd captured at the sites they'd discussed; in the end, there would be a constellation of little hordes, scattered at different points around the Saviors' compound. Red rover indeed.

Mason kept watch while she inventoried, checking the windows and doors every so often for unexpected visitors. She didn't think they'd have a problem, but they were so close to Alexandria...

She stood abruptly, neck prickling with unease. "I'm gonna patrol the building," she said. "Be right back."

Eugene frowned. "If you're not back in ten..."

She nodded. "I'll be careful."

Fire iron at the ready, she ventured outside and began her circuit around the factory.

She smelled it almost immediately. Her nose twitched, her head swiveling sharply for the source. But there were no flames coming from the building; it wasn't until she rounded the corner that the smoke became visible, dark clots of it climbing the sky in the north.

From Alexandria.

Her throat constricted on instinct, and she had to remind herself that her family was no longer there. Still, her heart throbbed as she rushed back inside.

The others looked up, startled that she was returning so soon. Eugene drew his weapon at the look on her face.

"There's a fire," she said. "I think it's Alexandria."

"What?"

"I'm going."

Eugene narrowed his eyes. "I'll come with you," he said, then glanced sternly at Dave and Ashlee. "Continue working, but stay alert. Keep your weapons close. Someone comes through that door that isn't us, any unfriendly types, you put them down."

"But-"

"No arguments. We will be back, I assure you."

They left without another word, each carrying only one gun each so that Ashlee and Dave could keep the rest. They did not bother with the car, either, in case Dave and Ashlee needed a quick getaway. She and Eugene had drilled them for a multitude of occurrences; she only hoped they would remember them under the gun.

When they were close enough to see the walls, the sight of them after so long clanged in her chest. But her anguish was swallowed quickly by grim calculation. There was so much smoke, angry waves of blackness so thick they were almost solid, that she knew the fire was extensive. Catastrophic. Eugene hissed, obviously in agreement.

They pulled to a halt a few yards from the wall, panting; even outside the community, the heat and smoke made it hard to breathe.

"What do we do?" Mason said. Desperation colored her tone.

Eugene rubbed at his watering eyes. "I don't think there is any putting this fire out," he rasped. "But the men inside..."

"Prisoners," Mason finished.

"Just one. We cannot-"

But two gunshots interrupted him, followed a few moments later by the sound of shattering glass. They watched silently as a man tumbled out of the front gate, shrieking and clawing uselessly at the flames devouring him.

 **Alpha**

Some of the men did not awaken before their death, but most of them did. They ran screaming out of the houses, a few of them trying in vain to put out the fires.

Alpha moved quickly.

The first man she took down, she grabbed as he was leaping from his porch. His knees shattered easily against the metal pipe she'd brought. His scream she choked off with a length of rope, pulled taut around his throat. Murph moved in once the man was unconscious, just as they'd practiced, leashing his wrists and ankles with zip ties and stuffing a wad of cloth into his mouth. Then they dragged him into the bushes.

They caught several men this way. In the chaos, it was ridiculously easy. None of them saw it coming. No one even knew they was there until they came in view of the gate.

"Hey!"

Alpha whipped around to see one of the sentries racing toward her, but a wave of smoke engulfed him as he raised his gun. She darted across the distance and was on him before he could recover; a few well-aimed blows to his head, his nose, his throat, and then she was wrenching his arm back, snatching the gun out of his hand. She shot him through the head, seconds before another gun sounded.

The bullet cut through her arm- just a graze but it still hurt like a bitch. Alpha snarled as her blood spattered the ground, searching furiously for the shooter.

The second sentry stood his ground by the gate, gun still aimed, but an ugly, hacking couch seized him before he could take the next shot.

Fury made her see red. He had _hurt_ her. He had drawn _blood_.

She could have shot him. But that would have been too quick.

She reached for the last vodka bottle, the one tucked into her belt she'd thought she could celebrate with once she was done.

Apparently they would be making a stop at the liquor store on the way back to camp, too.

She tore a strip from her shirt and stuffed it into the bottle, running while she worked. The man was already recovering, searching for her through the smoke.

He spotted her when she was little more than a yard away, but by then she had already lit her Molotov cocktail.

She threw it before he could fire at her. The glass shattered, spraying him with vodka and fire. Her lips twitched in a feral grin at the sound of his screams.

 **Mason**

Eugene raised his gun and shot the man; even from a distance, even with such an erratic, moving target, he got him right through the eye.

Mason used the sleeve of her shirt to pick up the casing and dipped it in a puddle to cool it off. "Should we go in? Or just pick them off out here?"

"Easier to pick them off," Eugene answered. "We can check for survivors once it's a little less Abaddon in there."

She bit her lip. "That could take hours."

"It could take days," he replied. "But anyone with a shred self-preservation is going to book it out of _that_ , and anyone who doesn't isn't going to be in any shape to report back to Negan once those flames die."

Briefly she closed her eyes.

Their home. Their _home_.

 _Don't think about it. Not now. You still have a job to do._

She caged her despair and drew her gun. "I'll cover the other side."

 **Alpha**

She stilled when she heard the gunshot, just one quick report that came from outside. The man? Had he shot himself? But...no, he'd dropped his gun when Alpha had doused him.

Murph scurried to her side, coughing and quivering. "Miss. We should go. Four men is enough for now. If we stay much longer we'll-"

" _Quiet_ ," she hissed, in the same heartbeat that a flicker of motion caught her eye. On instinct she grabbed Murph and ducked under the cover of a nearby bush, angrily blinking away smoke-induced tears in time to see-

Mason.

Alpha went rigid as stone.

 _She was alive._

And _kicking_ , apparently, for as two men raced out the front gate, she shot them both in the head.

"Is that...is that her?" Murph asked.

Yes. _Yes_ , that was her.

Alpha held her breath, watching with savage delight as Mason shot down any Saviors attempting to escape. It couldn't have worked out better if they'd planned it. And when the bullets ran out, Mason brought them down with her fire poker.

 _Alpha's_ fire poker.

She was pleased to see a spark of herself in the Reaper after all.

"Miss, please..." Murph tugged on her arm, shattering her trance. "We have to go. If the men come to before we get them out..."

"Alright," she snapped.

It took everything to tear her gaze from the wondrous, fluid form of the Reaper, who had been joined by the Chemist. They worked in such perfect concert, so beautifully, that the sight of it stung something deep inside her.

She turned away then, hurrying back through the community to the bushes where they'd hidden their victims. None of them had roused from unconsciousness yet, so it was just a bit easier hauling them over the wall. Still, it was quite a workout considering Murph was too weak to do any of the heavy lifting. By the time they were lying in the back of the truck, Alpha was exhausted, dripping sweat and smeared with soot. Still...

Still.

"Get the truck started," Alpha said to Murph. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" The urgency in his voice irritated her.

"I said I'll be back."

She left before giving into the temptation to smack him across the face. Her heart was vicious thunder in her chest, stealing her breath, buzzing her veins with adrenaline. But it didn't make her clumsy, didn't make her reckless. Her calculation narrowed to a knife point.

She stayed hidden.

But the sight of Mason, _the Reaper_ , lit her veins like gasoline.

She stood over the prone form of a man, talking quickly and urgently to the Chemist. There was blood on her hands, and little strands of hair sticking out in mutinous frays around her face. She looked mean, and wild, and at home in that wildness.

Alpha bit her lip hungrily.

 **Mason**

"We can carry him back to the munitions building," she said, hastily picking up what casings she could see and pocketing them. "Tie him up."

"Agreed," Eugene said, then pointed to the used bullet in her hand. "We'll come back when it's dark for the rest of those."

She nodded; it was easier to spot them with flashlights than it was in the daytime. Eugene hoisted the man over one shoulder and started back the way they'd come, but as Mason turned to follow him, a sound gave her pause.

A voice, no more than a whisper.

" _Mason_."

She blinked and looked around, one hand inching toward the iron on her back. She saw nothing but smoke coiling through the trees, no sign of anyone around her. The whisper didn't come again. She had to have imagined it, but the hair stood up on the back of her neck regardless.

"Mason."

Eugene's voice made her jump. He had stopped and was watching her questioningly.

"S-sorry," she said. "Coming."

~m~

Mason was sitting across from the man when he woke up, leaning against the tree opposite the one he was tied to. She grinned at his bleary expression.

"Morning, sunshine," she said. "Glad you finally decided to join us."

He blinked. "Mason...?"

She had already established that she knew him vaguely from her time in the Saviors' compound- his face, at least, but not his name. So his knowing her did not surprise her.

"Flattered you remember me," she said and stood up. "But you'll have to refresh me a little- what's your name again?"

"M-mike." As he stared at her, his eyes grew wider and wider. "We thought you were dead."

When she touched the knife on her belt, those wide eyes followed the movement.

"Only on the inside, my buddy, my pal."

"Let me go." Mike jerked on the wires holding him in place. " _Let me go_."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. Feel free to scream as loud as you want, though, all it's gonna do is attract walkers."

He swallowed violently, his Adam's apple bobbing. "What are you...what...did you set that fire?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why the fuck would I set fire to my own home?"

"I don't know, I don't know, just please, _please_ let me go. I-I promise, I won't tell Negan about you. I _swear_. Just let me go, god, let me go."

She pretended to think about. "I don't know... What do you think, partner in crime?"

Eugene stepped out from behind the tree where he'd been waiting, sharpening his own knife with perfect cinematic menace. She almost laughed.

"Mike Flannery, runner and shit-stealer for Negan, primarily low-risk missions," he said, eyeing Mike with distaste. "Once overheard him in the cafeteria bragging to Fat Joey about how he blew up a dog with a cherry bomb. There were also multiple rumors that he specifically targeted teenage girls on his missions because he claimed they were so emotionally pliable it was easy for a shitface dirtbag like him to have his way with them."

Every word was laced with loathing. Mason had the feeling he would have liked nothing better than to dismember the man right then.

But they needed their information.

She raised an eyebrow at Mike, who was trembling. "Don't put that shit on your resume, kid."

 _You sound like Negan,_ Glenn said quietly, and it was enough to shake her to the bone.

She did. She sounded like him. She might have collapsed with horror if Glenn hadn't continued in a grim tone.

 _Good._

Yes. Yes, it was good. This piece of shit needed to be scared. Besides, it wasn't who she really was. It wasn't her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Mike stammered. "I-I'm a piece of shit, I know. But please- please don't kill me. I'll do anything."

"Well, Mike, you know, there actually is something you could do for us," she replied and knelt directly in front of him, unsheathing her knife. "But first I want you to check this out."

With the tip of her blade, she pointed to the X's they'd drawn on him in walker blood- one on either thigh, one on his stomach, and one on either side of his neck, just below his jaw.

"When people try to kill themselves, they always go for the wrists," she said. "They don't think about the better options. You know how long it would take for you to bleed out if I stabbed you here?" She tapped his thigh again. "A few minutes if it's not allowed to clot."

Mike began shaking his head as she spoke, lips quivering, tears and snot glistening on his face. "No- no, please-"

"Same with the abdominal aorta-" She tapped the X on his stomach, then the ones on his neck. "And especially the carotid arteries. Of course there _is_ a little room for subjectivity. The femoral, for example, could take an hour to bleed out while it's trying to heal itself. And that subjectivity depends mainly on where I cut you, if I'm going to let it bleed freely...and if you are willing to cooperate."

" _Yes_! Yes, I'll do whatever you want, _please_."

Leaning close, she pressed the tip of the blade into his thigh, hard enough to draw a single drop of blood. Her expression darkened.

"Where are our people?"

"A-a-alexandria? I don't know."

Mason glanced at Eugene; when he nodded, she turned back to Mike.

"You got some brains in you after all," she said. "Next question: who would know where they are?"

"I-I'm not sure..."

Another glance at Eugene for the verdict; he shook his head slightly.

Abruptly, she stabbed the knife through the X on Mike's left thigh and twisted it, just like Eugene had taught her.

He screamed, jerking uselessly at the cords that bound him. Blood leaked from around the blade in heavy red ripples. With her free hand, she grabbed him by the chin.

"If I pull this knife out, you're dead in minutes. So you wanna try that again?"

" _Simon_!" he wailed. " _S-simon took them_!"

The name blazed in that cage with the rest of her fire. She cast a sidelong glance at Eugene, whose expression was tight with hate.

"So where's Simon?"

" _I don't know I don't know I don't know_! _He-he's always c-coming and going lately, I...I really don't know_!"

Mason nodded. "Well, no one could doubt the sincerity in that bloodcurdling shriek. How about one last question for the big money, huh?" She drummed her fingers along the handle of the knife and Mike screamed again. "Is Daryl alive?"

"Yes," he sobbed. "Yes, he's alive. H-he's still at the compound."

Relief made her knees shake; one look at Eugene and she knew he felt the same. The past two and a half months, she hadn't allowed herself to think of him except objectively, for planning purposes. She couldn't allow anything else. And now to find out he was _alive_ , her best friend was _alive_...

She patted Mike on the head. "Good boy."

Then she pulled out the knife. Blood squirted from the wound like a leaky hose; she tried to dodge it but it still caught her cheek. Its oily heat made her stomach churn.

He gasped shrilly. " _No_! _You said- you said if I answered your questions-_ "

"I'm afraid the jury already came to a verdict before you woke up," she said, rising to her feet. Her head spun a little but she kept it together enough to add, "Thanks for the intel."

Mike began screaming, but she tuned him out as she walked away, stumbling a little. There was a ringing in her ears, an unpleasant weight in her stomach.

A couple yards away, Eugene laid a hand on her shoulder. "May? You okay?"

She blinked at him and nodded.

Then she turned away to vomit.

"Shit." Quickly Eugene brushed her hair out of the way, rubbing his other hand in slow, soothing circles on her back.

"Ugh. Sorry," she croaked. "That was super gross."

"Yeah, but I forgive you," he teased.

"Shut-"

She cut off with another retch. Eugene kept a steadying hand on her shuddering form.

"This reminds me of the time during combat training when you accidentally kicked me in the kiwis. Except it was you holding my hair back."

"I felt so bad," Mason coughed tightly.

"Oh, it was an honest mistake. Hazards of the trade."

Mason stayed doubled over a moment longer, trying to get a feel for whether or not her stomach was done convulsing. It ached, but emptily. Tentatively she uncurled, wiping at her mouth.

"By the way, did you just refer to your balls as kiwis?"

"Indeed, I did, and I am prepared to go down swinging in defense of that terminology."

Mason shook her head. "I don't know what that was. I don't know why..."

But she trailed off, because she thought she did.

She wasn't disturbed that she'd killed that man. He'd deserved it; the things Eugene had told her about him had convinced her of that. She wouldn't have taken it back, not even the way she'd killed him.

It was just disturbing to know that there was a part of her that was capable of such cold-blooded cruelty.

Just like...

 _You are not like Negan,_ Glenn cut in fiercely.

But she was. She was; there was a part of her, small though it might be, that he had corrupted into the shape of himself.

 _No. You are one of the best people I know._

 _Maybe that's true. But that doesn't mean there is not a darkness in me anyway._

Glenn didn't reply, and that was how she knew she was right.

Eugene touched her face. "Do you need me to do this sort of thing from now on?"

"No, no, I'm sorry, this won't...I won't react this way again."

"Why are you apologizing? React how you need to react. Just know that I am here if you need to tag me in."

Mason smiled but she didn't tell him what she was really thinking. That he had already murdered Spencer in cold blood, and she had seen what it had done to him. She wasn't going to add to that weight. She would take on as many ghosts as she needed to- she would not let anything ruin him.

"Let's get back to the factory," she said. "The others will be here soon."

~m~

Dave and Ashlee listened raptly to Mason and Eugene's tale, their eyes wide with something like she was something to be admired. She wished she could share their assessment, but the rawness in her stomach reminded her of the truth.

The other Misfits arrived not long after. Their truck was loaded down with supplies- which they hid throughout the munitions building- and the trailer hitched to the back was loaded down with walkers.

They wasted no time in setting to work, unloading the walkers in sections. Each one was gagged so they couldn't bite, their hands bound so they couldn't scratch, and by the end, each Misfit had a walker leashed to either arm.

Mason and Eugene wove through them, double and triple checking to make sure everything was in order. In addition to their own preferred weapons, each Misfit had been outfitted with a bow and quiver of arrows, two knives, and one gun. The sight of them, looking strong and capable and war-ready, put a lump in Mason's throat. But she compartmentalized her emotion. This was what they'd been working so hard for.

Stifling a sigh, she faced her Misfits. "Everyone ready?"

They nodded silently, apparently too nervous to speak- all except Tanner, who spoke for them.

"Born that way, Mama Bear."

Mason and Eugene laid their fists over their chests, and the Misfits returned the salute. She didn't know when it had stopped being a joke.

Clumped together among the dead, they made their way east.

~m~

They were still a ways off from the Saviors' compound when Eugene stopped, raising his fist to halt the Misfits. Mason frowned, eyeing him questioningly, and he quickly made the symbol for "company". It took her a minute, but then she heard what Eugene had first. A voice, low and growling with frustration, thick with what might have been tears.

Eugene and Mason flashed the symbol for "slow" at the Misfits and then led the way toward the noise, creeping carefully through the undergrowth, shortening the slack on their walkers' leashes to better control their movements.

When they saw who it was, Mason and Eugene started with surprise. What fucking _luck_. They exchanged a quick glance, coming to an agreement without having to say a word. Then they unwound the ropes from their arms and silently handed them to Tanner and Renee. At their concerned looks, Mason flashed two symbols in quick succession.

 _Quiet._

 _Wait._

Mason and Eugene circled around in opposite directions so they could come at the man from either side. He hadn't noticed them yet, standing with his head in his hands, gripping it so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

When she and Eugene were in position, Mason let out a short whistle and the man looked up.

She grinned. "Hello, Dwight."

Dwight opened his mouth to speak, turning to face her, but Eugene stepped out of his hiding place, Daryl's crossbow at the ready.

"I wouldn't do anything stupid, friend," he said. "My aim is a lot better than yours."

Slowly Dwight put his hands in the air, his face flooding with what was unmistakably relief. "Mason, Eugene, holy Christ. You're here. _You're here_."

Mason cast a startled glance at Eugene, but he seemed just as confused as her. Which meant that Dwight's relief was genuine.

Why the hell would he be happy to see them?

"Down on your knees," Mason barked. "Unless you want a bolt in your brain."

The tone of her voice had him regarding her a bit more warily. He nodded and sank to the ground. She glared at him for a long time, trying to decide how best to handle this.

"So what are you doing out here?" she finally said. "I don't think I've ever seen you so far from Negan's asshole."

Dwight flinched. _Flinched_.

Eugene's eyes glinted. "Or have you fallen from grace?"

"No," Dwight breathed, and then let out a broken laugh. "No, it's worse than that. I'm his right-hand man now."

Mason and Eugene tensed in unison; she drew her gun in a lightning flash of movement.

Dwight's eyes widened. "No, no, I'm not- this isn't a trap."

"So what are you doing out here?" Eugene growled.

"Look, no one knows you guys are alive. They all thought you died in that walker horde. Well, except for Daryl. He always had faith that you'd made it. But he never told anyone what he suspected aside from Sherry and me."

" _You_?" Eugene's lips curled in the hint of a snarl; Mason knew he'd never forgotten what Dwight had done to Denise, what he'd been willing to do to Daryl and Rosita and the rest of Alexandria. "Why the hell would he confide in you?"

Dwight smiled, just a little. "Things have changed, Eugene. You guys escaped and everything kind of...skewed. Your leaving really left a scar on the empire."

Mason felt a twinge of fierce delight. _Good._

But Eugene shook his head. "That isn't an answer to my question. You have five seconds."

"Man. Hardball suits you. Have you-"

"Three."

" _Okay_. Look, I don't know if Daryl and I are exactly _friends_ at this point, but...we are allies. And he always knew you two would come back."

Without another word, Dwight arranged his fingers into a familiar symbol.

 _Quality assurance._

The breath caught in Mason's throat. Her eyes flickered to Eugene to find his welling with emotion.

With a satisfied nod, Dwight said, "You believe me now? He taught Sherry and me a few of those so we could all communicate under Negan's nose. Man. It was a dicey little game you two were playing before, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Mason whispered, then cleared her throat. "But that leaves another question unanswered: what are you doing out here?"

"Oh. That's easy." He chuckled. "Came out here to weigh the pros and cons of putting a gun in my mouth."

His honesty punched her in the gut. Suddenly the gun felt a little vulgar in her hand.

"Turns out suicide isn't really my speed," he continued. "Turns out I really do want to live...but I didn't know why until you two popped up out of nowhere. So thanks."

"Don't thank us yet," Eugene said, finally lowering the crossbow. "We are not friends, remember?"

Dwight smiled wryly. "Of course not, you bit my dick."

A startled cough of laughter sounded from the bushes; Mason wasn't certain, but she thought it was probably Dave. She rolled her eyes to the sky and prayed for patience.

When neither she nor Eugene reacted defensively, Dwight raised an eyebrow. "But...you brought a few friends with you? Or are they not-friends, too?"

Eugene eyed him with a hard expression. Then he whistled.

The Misfits emerged. Dwight leaned back a little at the sight of the walkers surrounding them, until he noticed the leashes and gags.

"You guys are into some kinky shit, aren't you?"

"Shut up and listen," Eugene growled. There was that ice again, pulled from the cage where he stored it for moments like this. It took a real effort for Mason to keep from smiling. He was such a _badass_.

"We are moving against Negan. By the end of all this, there will be no more empire, so it would be wise to choose the right side now."

"You don't have to convince me," Dwight said.

"Maybe so. But if you betray us? If you jeopardize our cause in any way?" Eugene stepped closer, prodding Dwight's chest with the crossbow. "I will kill you. And I will not be quick about it."

"Understood."

Mason watched Eugene's face, gauging by his subtle reactions whether or not Dwight was being sincere. Apparently he was. Things must have really gotten bad if he was so desperate to team up with them.

Anxiety pinched her stomach. So how did that pose for Alexandria? If things were bad for the Saviors, how bad were they for prisoners?

"Where are they?" she said. "Alexandria, where did he take them?"

"They're not at the compound," Dwight answered. "Simon took them to one of the outposts, a little ghost town north of our community."

"How are they?" She couldn't raise her voice above a whisper.

"I don't see much of them because Negan wants me here, but..." His gaze met hers, and there was such sympathy there that for the first time she felt something like kinship with him. "They are suffering."

Mason let out a tiny choking noise. She thought it might have been a sob.

Eugene was there immediately, reaching for her hand. The comforting weight of his fingers through hers kept her from falling to her knees. The Misfits clustered closer at the sound of her distress.

"Hey," Dwight said earnestly. "They are suffering, but they're tough. They're not making it easy for us."

Her lips twitched just a bit at the thought. Fighters, all of them.

"Dwight," Eugene said. "We have a plan, but perhaps we should discuss it with you first to make sure all angles have been examined. If things are so different, we may need to adjust certain aspects."

"I can do that."

"Wait, is this guy a Savior?" Tanner interrupted, barging forward to glare venomously at Dwight. "Why are we trusting him?"

"Because Eugene is the best liar in the multiverse," Mason answered. "Which makes him the best lie detector in the multiverse."

"It _would_ be beneficial to have eyes on the inside..." Charlie said; her own gleamed with cunning.

Eugene nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

The Misfits exchanged a long glance. After a moment, Dwight spoke up.

"So...mind keying me in on this plan?"

"We'll do it in pieces," Renee decided; it was clear in her voice that she disliked Dwight on principle. "Just in case."

"I agree. You're less of a liability that way. So here it is: piece one," Eugene said, and his eyes were like brutal chips of winter as he regarded Dwight. "We are going to infiltrate the compound to free Daryl. And then we are burning it to the ground."

 **Alpha**

Occasionally, one of Murph's "patients" would scream as he did whatever it was he was doing to them. It probably didn't help that she had injured them pretty viciously; all of them had broken bones of some sort. She didn't feel bad about this, of course, but it was a little distracting.

She was lounging on her back in the little alcove she'd constructed out of Halloween props. It was in a corner of the store furthest from Murph's workshop, so that whenever she needed a break from him it actually felt like distance.

She felt...strange after the day's events. In truth, she'd felt strange since the day she'd discovered Alexandria had been taken. Where, she had no clue. They might not even be alive. And the fury that had seized her then...

They had been the key. Their numbers, their fighting experience. She had counted on them to rival the Saviors.

It hadn't been all rational, burning down their home. She admitted that. There was something inside her now, some insidious growth, that sometimes had its way with her thoughts. That sometimes seized her sanity and shook it, like a dog the throat of its prey.

But some good, she thought, had come of it anyway. The Saviors no longer claimed Alexandria as their own, had been driven out like the cockroaches they were. And if the Alexandrians were still alive, perhaps homelessness would motivate them even more to snag the Saviors' compound as their new home, their prize.

But, oh, how it felt to _burn._ She couldn't deny that that had been the real reason.

 _You're slipping._

The familiar voice made her snarl under her breath.

Sometimes she saw Feral, but more often it was just that voice, whispering in her skull.

She still hadn't quite mastered the art of shutting it out, but tonight it was easy. Because behind her eyes, she was still picturing Mason shooting those men in the head like it was nothing, the confidence in her movement as she traded the gun for the fire poker, the lithe shape of her body, glistening with sweat and firelight...

The sudden jab of desire stole her breath away.

She had never stopped feeling attracted to Mason. Even in her hatred, even in her disgust, she had always, always wanted her. Sometimes it was in simple ways, Mason submissive beneath her, allowing Alpha to fuck her the way she always had in the past. Sometimes it was in ways so violent that by the end of the fantasy, Mason was covered in bruises and blood.

But _this_.

This was entirely new, violent in its own right, but...balanced.

In her mind, she saw herself and Mason crashing together like two opposing waves. They were not gentle with each other. They were teeth and tongues, wildness and rage and lust. They clawed at each other to get closer and it still was not close enough.

And Mason held her own. She did not back down from Alpha's aggression. She gave back as good as she got- shoving Alpha against a wall, gripping her hair with white-knuckled grace, biting Alpha's lip until it bled...and then licking that blood away.

It was a very, very good thing she was lying down.

Her knees felt like water, but the rest of her was a flame. She wanted, she wanted, _she wanted_.

Hastily she unbuttoned her jeans and slid her hand between her legs. It wasn't good enough, but it would have to do.

She pretended her fingers were Mason's. She pretended they were rolling on a bed together, equals for once, tangling for dominance but getting nowhere because they were _both_ queens. Alpha and Reaper. The queen of burning and the queen of death.

Mason's impressive display today...

She kept replaying it.

The way the muscles in her arm had tightened and released with each swing of the fire iron.

The unyielding resolve in her face, more than a promise of violence.

The way that black jacket and jeans had clung to her body, emphasizing all the best parts...

Eyes shut tight, she bit her own lip and pretended Mason had done it.

At the taste of blood, she climaxed. The intensity of it made her head spin.

And after, while she lay panting on the cool tile, slick with sweat, she said Mason's name. Over and over and over again. Just whispers, just ripples.

Maybe she was slipping but she liked the feel of it.

And maybe it was just a fantasy, but...

They could rule the fucking world together.


	10. Do or Die

Hello, guys! So I'm really excited about this chapter, there's a lot going on in it that I've been wanting to write for a while which is also going to kickstart a lot of stuff. So I hope ya'll enjoy it, too. The chapter song is "Do or Die" by Flux Pavilion feat. Childish Gambino (the Flosstradamus remix); it's hella epic and perfect for ass-kicking lol. Also, I know ya'll have been wondering for a while about certain loose ends and while I don't want to give too much away I will say that this story is very much a reunion story- so do with that what you will lol. As always, thanks so much for your reviews and support, it makes me, just, the happiest, you guys. Let me know what you think!

10\. Do or Die

Here was the plan, and it was beautiful.

Eugene had named the mission Supernova, because from the start to finish the whole process would collapse in ever-narrowing layers until the final explosion, starting with the sentries.

There were four main watch points on the outside, which the Misfits would be distracting. Eugene had factored in everything, including the time the moon would set. At two seventeen a.m., when everything was full dark, Tanner, Dave, Dray and Charlie would light the flares they'd tied to tree limbs several yards out from the compound, one for each watch point.

The sentries would venture out to investigate, at which point each Misfit would release their respective walker hordes. With the sentries properly ambushed, the Misfits would return to the compound to start work liberating the walkers in the deadwall.

Ashlee and Renee, easily the best climbers in the lot, would scale the buildings to douse the rooftops with booze. The alcoholic in Mason had cringed a bit while they'd raided the liquor store, but the Misfits had been squirreling away gasoline for months and she knew they'd need it for...for their journey.

Meanwhile, Mason and Eugene would sneak in through the back of the main building. It was a few hallways down from the cells, but Dwight had assured them it was the closest they could get without completely blowing the mission. There would be men guarding the cells, but so long as Dwight did his job they would not have back-up; once a good majority of the deadwall was free, he was to let them inside the building to give the other Saviors something to worry about.

Sherry had volunteered to distract Negan for as long as she could. Dwight hadn't come out and said how, but the look he'd shared with Mason had told her everything. She knew better than anyone the things Sherry would likely be doing to serve as that distraction. She tried not to think about it.

And the rest...

The rest was just a series of ignitions.

~m~

The sentries took the bait.

The moment they disappeared into the woods, Mason and Eugene slipped through the door Dwight had told them to. She blanched as she crossed the threshold; she knew these hallways, knew the smell of them, knew the shapes of the shadows the lights threw. It was insane. It was _fucking_ _mental_. They had gotten out by the skin of their teeth the last time and now here they were, of their own free will...

 _Get a grip_ , she thought, breathing the way Denise and Dray had taught her to quell her anxiety. Firmly she shoved her panic into the cage.

But the fire...

She left the door wide open for that.

They didn't see anyone at first as they hurried for their first turn. No map- neither of them had been able to decide if they were pleased or horrified that they remembered the layout so intimately. Because of her missing ear, she'd had to tighten the goggles resting on her head; they squeezed her head like a vise. The rag hanging at her throat was too hot, too stifling. But Eugene had said she might need them and then had lovingly proceeded to put them on her while she'd scowled and tried not to fidget. So she kept them where they were.

When they turned the first corner, however, there they were: six men standing guard at regular intervals, four men walking.

Mason lunged forward while Eugene strolled after her a bit more sedately. The men walking were unarmed, or at least did not have time to draw their weapons before she was on them, stabbing through the throat, bashing them on the skull. Eugene took care of the guards, shooting them each through the head with such quickness and precision that Mason let out a huff of laughter.

"We are seriously the dream team," she said when all the men lay dead at their feet.

Eugene nodded as he reloaded his gun. "I won't argue that."

They made quick work of confiscating all of the men's guns and the bullet casings on the floor, shoving them in the gun bag slung over Eugene's shoulder. There would be no trips to the armory this time unfortunately. Dwight had told them that after their grand escape, Negan had had it moved into his own apartment, and apparently that whole area was even more heavily guarded than the cells. Still, they would take all they could get.

They turned the corner into the next hall. There were only two men in this one, no guards. Mason and Eugene took them down side by side, slitting their throats before they could make a sound. While they confiscated their weapons, Mason glanced at Eugene.

"Time check?"

He checked the watch he'd scavenged just for this occasion. "Two twenty-seven."

She nodded. "Right on schedule."

The third hallway was much like the first- five guards, all armed. No one walking through, so Mason drew her own gun and rounded the corner at Eugene's casual pace. The men lifted their guns but none of them had time to fire; Mason and Eugene shot them all through the head without breaking stride.

The whole process was relatively quiet. Both of their guns had silencers, and the only sound came from the bodies as they slumped to the floor.

Even so, a few men with apparently terrific hearing came creeping around the corner from the fourth and final hall. When they saw the two intruders, they shouted for the others guards- thirteen, if Dwight was correct.

"Alright, I guess we're doing this," Eugene muttered and pulled two smoke bombs from his pocket.

Which was Mason's cue.

She pulled the goggles down over her eyes and the rag up over her nose. She started running the same moment that Eugene threw the bombs, filling the hall with thick gray smoke. The men started coughing. They stumbled to a halt, blinded by their stinging eyes.

Mason was a ghost among them.

She flitted from shadow to shadow like some lethal will-o-the-wisp, relishing the splatter of blood as she stabbed each one through the skull. Eugene waited at the edge of the cloud to shoot down any who slipped past her.

And it felt so _good_ to let the fire have its way. To let it lash through her veins, fueling her movements with savage grace. Yes, it was her weapon. It was the greatest weapon in her arsenal.

When the smoke cleared, Mason counted the bodies. Thirteen, just as Dwight had said. A quick peek around the corner confirmed that these were the only guards.

"Coast's clear," she said, her stomach fluttering with a sudden rush of nerves. They were finally going to be reunited with their best friend, the third in their trio.

The one they had left behind.

"Dwight's probably getting in position," Eugene said, hissing a little as he clutched at his arm, which she realized then was bleeding.

Mason gasped. "Shit, what happened?"

"One of those assholes got a good shot in before I could turn him into a corpse but-" He broke off with a chuckle. "You look so concerned."

"What... How else am I supposed to look? Jesus, you just told me you got shot."

"Now you look irritated."

"Well, I am. _Stop jumping in front of bullets_."

Eugene gave her an earnest, lopsided grin. "Yes, ma'am."

Mason scowled. "C'mere."

Quickly she pulled the rag from around her neck and used it to bandage his arm.

"Looks like it's just a graze, but it's still bleeding quite a bit," she muttered.

"At the risk of incurring your wrath a second time, that's what I was trying to inform you before," Eugene replied. "Precious Worryin' Warrior."

"Okay, everybody needs to stop calling me that or so help me..."

Though the hall was empty, they still assumed their typical defensive position as they stalked toward the cells. Mason's heart thudded unevenly, her eyes zeroing in on the door. Sherry, bless her heart, had managed to steal the key a second time and Dwight had passed it along to them, and now she could feel it burning a hole in her pocket.

Did Daryl resent them for leaving? Did he think they'd betrayed him?

She hesitated in front of the door, that same one that she'd lived behind, naked and hungry and so sure she was going to die.

The fire retreated to its cage. Her bones felt weak and cold without it.

She reached into her pocket for the key. It slid away from her sweaty, trembling fingers several times before she was finally able to secure it.

Eugene kept watch the whole time but as she was standing there, bracing herself against the months of guilt and torment she'd kept at bay until now, he reached out behind him for her hand.

She breathed one soothing breath.

Then she unlocked the door.

Because Dwight had already given him a head's up, Daryl was on his feet and ready, but he blinked furiously in the sudden light as if he didn't see it much anymore. Indeed he looked paler, weaker, than the last time she'd seen him. But that wasn't what had the breath catching painfully in her throat.

His right hand was gone.

She stared at the stump where it once had been while his eyes adjusted, and a cold sweat broke over her.

 _"Now, I'm gonna need a clean cut and I know this is a fucked up thing to ask but it's gonna need to be like a salami slice. Give us something to fold over."_

It had been cleanly and perfectly amputated, with time enough to heal.

They must have done it that same night, after she and Eugene had escaped. They must have-

 _"...cut your boy's arm off, right on that line..._

 _Or do you really want to see these people die?_

 _Because you will._

 _You will see every ugly thing."_

Her stomach heaved and she swallowed back bile.

"Daryl," she croaked, and there was more that she needed to say, to apologize for, but she couldn't get the words out.

But Daryl stepped forward, and his eyes shone with love as he looked at her and Eugene.

"Hey, guys," he rasped.

The power went out then, and Mason suddenly remembered where she was.

Daryl cursed under his breath, but Mason grabbed his hand.

The one that was still there, anyway.

"It's okay, it's just Dwight," she said, swallowing her guilt. "That's actually our cue to get the fuck out of here."

Eugene's flashlight cut through the darkness. "Let's vanish."

He led them back the way they'd come. Mason refused to let go of Daryl's hand, and he cleaved to her like a life preserver. Her mind was a whirl of repeating thoughts- they had him back, he'd lost his hand, they had him back, they'd left him.

The path was clear all the way to the exit. When they stepped outside, the scent of alcohol and smoke assaulted them. Mason looked up to see flames flickering on the rooftops.

"They're in the woods," Eugene said, already reaching for the bow on his back. He'd swapped out the crossbow at the last minute, claiming that his arrows were much more disposable, but Mason thought it was just because he didn't want Daryl seeing him use it. A stepping on toes kind of thing.

They skirted the front of the compound, slipping instead through the hole they'd cut earlier in the back fence. People began screaming as the fire spread and the walkers infiltrated the building. Mason hoped Dwight and Sherry had found somewhere safe to lay low in the chaos.

She saw the first bomb arrow arc through the darkness on her left. Tanner's quadrant. It sailed cleanly for its target, one of the trucks parked by the front gate, and blew the front tire on the passenger's side. Flames licked their way up to the hood. Mason grinned.

More arrows rained down on the compound, from all different directions; when they were close to the gate, Eugene took up his own position and nocked a bomb arrow. Mason lit the fuse while he took aim. A moment later he let fly, and it soared beautifully into a cluster of motorcycles in the front yard.

They didn't pause for long, though Mason was itching to watch the fire devour every inch of that fucking place. Saviors ran around in a panic, trying desperately to put out the blaze while fending off walkers. It was anarchy and it was gorgeous, but Eugene was tugging on her sleeve, reminding her that it was too dangerous to stay in one spot for too long. They ran deeper into the woods, dodging the places they knew the walker hordes would be set up.

Tanner, Renee and Ashlee were waiting for them, clearly still hyped by the way they paced around each other. Daryl recoiled at the sight of them. Mason squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"They're friends," she murmured, but he continued to glare warily.

"Where are the others?" Tanner demanded, stalking toward them.

Mason blinked. "They're not back?"

"Do you see them anywhere?"

"We'll round them up," Eugene said before she could snap a reply. "You three need to get Daryl away from here."

Daryl stiffened. "No. I'm staying with ya'll."

"Daryl, it's okay." Gently Mason touched his face. "We'll be right behind you."

He eyed her for a long time, for all the world a feral animal wanting desperately to trust. He was _trembling_. A rush of sympathy put a lump in her throat, but she stifled the urge to wrap her arms around him and protect him from the world.

"Trust me," she whispered. "We just got you back, we're not letting anything separate us now."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. "Okay. Okay."

"We'll meet you at the rendezvous point in ten," Renee said, examining Daryl with a nurse's concern but wisely keeping her distance. "If you two aren't there by then, we'll come get you."

Eugene nodded and tossed Tanner the gun bag. "Constant vigilance," he reminded them.

Ashlee giggled, still a bit breathless from adrenaline. "Yes, sir, Mad-Eye."

As they disappeared into the dark, Eugene said, "I propose we make a clockwise circuit. It's more likely with their previous positions that they'd be coming from the north."

"I concur, doc."

She tried not to let her imagination get the best of her as they retraced their steps. The whole mission had just gone so _smoothly_ and now the others were late. If anything had happened to them...

Her fire roared to life at the thought.

They were rounding the north side of the compound, sticking to the cover of the trees, when they heard the shatter of glass, close enough that it cut through the cacophony of the Saviors. A second later, Dave stumbled into their line of sight, holding his bleeding face. A man followed and punched him in the gut.

With practiced haste, Eugene drew an arrow and shot the man through the eye. He hit the ground just as Eugene and Mason reached Dave, guiding him to a sitting position.

"Son of a bee sting, that hurt," Dave grunted. "Hey, guys."

Mason sat on the ground with him, letting him lean against her shoulder. "Let me see," she instructed.

Wincing, he pulled his hands away, revealing a peppering of cuts all along the left side of his face. Blood dripped into his eye, but thankfully it appeared unharmed. She was more concerned by a stab wound in his shoulder, which had already darkened the collar and sleeve of his shirt.

Dave followed her gaze. "Oh, yeah... But you should see the other guy! Dead. He's dead. He's the first guy I've ever killed. I mean, the first living guy I've ever killed. Kinda don't know how to feel about that yet but-"

"You need to apply pressure," Mason said tightly.

"Right, yeah, of course," he said, but Mason still had to physically take his hands and press them to the wound herself. She recognized his manic energy for what it was, but he would have to wait to fall apart until they were all safe.

"Hey."

She looked up at the edge in Eugene's voice and movement a few yards off caught her eye.

Dray and Charlie standing back to back in a circle of Saviors.

Eugene reached for his gun, but when he checked the magazine he frowned. "I'm out."

Only four more arrows in his quiver, and Mason counted eight men. She bit her lip, prepared to drag Dave to a hiding place while she fought, but Eugene tore the rag from his injured arm and began picking up pieces of the bottle the man had used to attack Dave.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"You stay here and keep an eye on him," Eugene said, hastily wrapping the glass shards in between his fingers.

Just like she'd done for him in the train car at Terminus, but with...

"Sharp buttons and hella confidence," he said with a wink, and lunged into the fray before she could protest.

Panic seized her, but at the first strike of his makeshift weapon she couldn't help staring in awe.

By himself, he fought differently. He fought in ways she'd never taught him, that even Abraham hadn't taught him.

 _That's all Morgan, baby,_ Abraham said.

 _Morgan?_

 _Redirection at its finest._

And it _was,_ she realized with a jolt. The men came at him, and he used their own force, their momentum- _everything_ they threw at him- against them. Not to spare their lives, as Morgan would have, but to sweep them off balance. To keep them away from Dray and Charlie as much as possible. They covered him as he fought, but she had a feeling that if it had just been him he could have held his own.

 _Long ways away from the inept jellyfish that killed my truck, huh?_

 _Oh my god, how are you still salty about that?_

She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until all the men were dead. Gently she helped Dave to his feet, and once Dray and Charlie had a hold of him she rushed into Eugene's arms.

He laughed a little. "Yes, hello, honey, I'm back from the war."

"When did you learn all that?" she demanded, nuzzling into his chest.

"In between all my other lessons."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you and Morgan weren't exactly on speaking terms at the time." He leaned away to look at her. "I told you you were my hero, Mason. I didn't want it to always be you protecting me. I wanted to protect you, too."

She shook her head, overcome with a wave of affection and pride and-

Stress.

With a vicious glare, she tweaked his side.

"Ow! What-"

"What did I say about jumping into danger?"

"If I recall, you only specified jumping in front of bullets."

"Don't try and justify yourself with technicalities, you reckless, showboating _dumbass_! I swear to god, if you _ever_ do anything like that again, I...I will _twist your nipples off_."

Eugene's eyes widened. "Not my nipples. I need those."

"For what?"

"For sexual stimulation. And aesthetic."

Her lips twitched, but she would not smile. She would not let him win.

But of course he recognized the struggle on her face, the fucking asshole. His eyes gleamed. There was a brief pause, and then...

"You know, sixty-three Earths can fit inside Uranus."

And Mason broke, snorting with laughter.

"Goddammit, Eugene!"

He blinked innocently. "What? I was simply trying to share an interesting fact with you from my vast wealth of knowledge."

"Vast wealth of dickery..."

"Hickory dickery."

~m~

Mason sat with Dave and Eugene while Renee patched them up. None of their wounds were terribly serious, though Dave's did take longer as Renee had to pluck glass out of his skin.

The whole time, she was painfully conscious of the fact that Daryl was waiting for them in the living room, and from the concerned pinch between Eugene's brows, he was, too.

Eventually Dave sighed. "Guys, go see your friend."

"Yeah, you probably should," Renee said. "He's not comfortable without you two around."

Mason swallowed hard and shared a contrite look with Eugene. With a promise to visit Dave later, they headed into the house.

Daryl was indeed waiting in the living room on a couch by himself, glaring down at his twitching fingers. An empty plate sat next to him. The other Misfits were scattered on furniture around him, eating their own dinners in awkward silence.

As soon as he saw her and Eugene, he jumped to his feet. The plate clattered to the floor but nobody said anything.

Heavy silence stole over the room. The Misfits paused in their eating, wide eyes flicking back and forth between the three of them. Mason's heart pounded. She felt as though she were standing on the thinnest glass.

Then Daryl strode toward them, lower lip trembling, and wrapped both of them in his arms.

They hugged him back immediately, crushing him close enough that it probably hurt, but he didn't complain. All of them bowed their heads, burying their faces in each other's necks, their shoulders.

They stood there for a very long time, unwilling to let go, and soaked each other's shirts with tears.

~m~

"So ya'll got tattoos?"

It was the first Daryl had spoken since asking them to tell their story from start to finish. The three of them were sitting in Ashlee's room, Mason and Eugene on the bed, Daryl on the floor. They'd offered to let him have the bed but he said after sleeping on concrete for three months it was too comfortable. Which had just made their guilt that much harder to bear.

"Uh, yep," Mason answered. It was a testament to how desperately Daryl was trying to adjust, to reorient his sanity around this new freedom, that that was his first question. She and Eugene held out their wrists to show him.

She expected him to comment on the arrows, but his only response was a low, "Hurm."

The silence dragged. Suddenly, in light of his amputated hand, the tattoos felt childish, ridiculous. But after a moment Daryl nodded.

"I get it," he said quietly. "Merle and some of his Army buddies got tattoos together." He glanced back and forth between them, his expression unreadable. "Is that what you've built here? An army?"

"That was our intent, yes," Eugene answered.

"Because Alexandria was taken."

His flat tone made Mason flinch.

"Yes," she murmured.

"And someone...someone burned the Safe Zone to the ground."

"It's still burning."

He sat mutely for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. He was in shock, she realized. Too numb to process his emotions yet. Mason fidgeted, unsure of how to phrase her next question.

"Daryl," she finally said. "Do you think...I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you're not up to it, but...what happened? After we-"

She broke off. She couldn't say it. In her mind, she could still see him surrounded by Saviors, pushing her away so that _she_ could be free.

Daryl's eyes cleared. The distance in them sharpened, and suddenly he was _there_ with them in a way he hadn't been since their reunion. Like he'd never left a part of him behind in that prison cell.

"Stop blamin' yourselves," he growled. "I see it in your faces every time you two look at me. _I_ pushed you away that night. I _wanted_ you to get out."

Mason's eyes stung. "We left you," she whispered.

"You had to."

"I can't stop thinking about it."

"You had to leave me, Mason," he repeated forcefully, and there was no doubt in his voice. No blame. "If you'd stayed, there would've been no way out again. You had only one chance. Don't try and pretend that you wouldn't have done the same for me and Eugene. That's just what we do for each other."

He was right. It was.

" _My_ story?" he continued and shrugged. "There ain't much to tell, I guess. That night, after ya'll got out, they took me back inside and Negan cut my hand off. Punishment or whatever. You know how he creams his jeans about that shit. Thought he was gonna kill me but instead he gave me this whole lecture about how there are worse things than death."

Mason's pulse faltered, her veins turning to ice. She could feel Eugene's eyes on her but she couldn't look at him.

"I was in that cell most of the time. Dwight and Sherry brought me extra food when they could. I asked them every time if they'd heard anything about you two but they hadn't. Told me most of the Saviors thought ya'll were dead, but I knew that was bullshit. But your escaping did more good than you expected. Apparently a group of the wives and a few of the Saviors tried to rise up. Course Negan had them all executed, but it really shook him, you know?"

Mason and Eugene shared a stunned look.

"We...inspired a coup?" Eugene said.

Daryl nodded. "Mm hmm. Simon suffered for that. Negan blamed him for letting it escalate, so that's how Dwight got promoted to second. Never suspected that maybe Dwight might be disenchanted with the whole thing, too. Simon's been scrambling to make up for it by running the show at the outpost where Alexandria was taken, but so far Negan's not impressed."

Eugene frowned. "Do you think that's where they'll be heading now that their main compound is compromised?"

There was a note of frustration in his voice and Mason couldn't blame him. When they'd planned their attack, they'd debated for a long time what to do about the survivors. But the truth was there were just too many to take on, even with the walker constellation, even with the aid of the Misfits. Taking them down would have to be in pieces.

"I don't know. Maybe," Daryl said.

Eugene nodded, unsurprised. "We'll ask Dwight when we see him next."

"When are you meeting him again?"

"We arranged to meet two days from now at the rendezvous point. Are you in?"

Daryl's eyes flashed. "Yeah. I'm gonna be in every part of this."

Mason couldn't help it; her eyes flashed to Daryl's stump.

He noticed. "I can fight just fine," he snapped. "Been practicin'. I don't need you coddlin' me."

"I'm not, I'm just worried-"

"Well, don't be. You ain't gonna be the only ones fightin'."

"I think maybe what Mason was suggesting was that you rest a bit before throwing yourself out of the frying pan," Eugene said. "No offense, but you really do resemble, um, _roadkill_ more than you do the good ole Squirrel-bane we remember."

Daryl snorted and glared at the floor. Mason bit her lip. It was true that Daryl was in desperate need of recovery, but he would eventually be back to his old strength.

How was he going to fare with only one hand?

But when she glanced at Eugene, he shook his head slightly. He was being tactful, she realized. Daryl would rather admit he needed time to heal than admit to a permanent weakness.

 _My baby brother's gonna be just fine,_ Merle said. _I got along pretty damn well with only one hand._

"Yeah," she said. "Renee will get you back to your former squirrel-baning glory in no time. She kept me from dying. And she took good care of Tanner when I, you know, broke his face."

After a long pause, Daryl's lips twitched a little. "He reminds me of Abraham."

Mason's eyes softened. "Yeah. He does."

"Dave kinda seems like Beth whenever she had too much sugar. Remember?"

She smiled. "I remember."

"I think Charlie's gonna be tight with Rosita and Carol."

Tears blurred her vision. "I think you're right."

"I want you to show me."

She blinked. "What?"

Daryl looked up. "Alexandria. I want to see it for myself."

She understood immediately. It wasn't that he didn't trust that they'd told him the truth.

It was fuel for his own fire, the one she saw building behind his eyes, kin to her own.

"Get some sleep," she said softly. "We'll show you once you look a little less like death."

~m~

"I think I can fashion something for Daryl. Something like what you described his brother had."

Eugene and Mason lay on the floor next to Daryl, who had only drifted into a deep sleep once they'd joined him. They'd been whispering on and off for a few hours, neither of them able to sleep despite their exhaustion. Partly it was because Daryl had requested they keep the bedside lamp on and Mason couldn't really blame him for that- she remembered the darkness of their cell intimately. But partly, she thought, it was because the war had officially begun. She wondered if she'd be able to sleep at all until it was over.

"We were able to scavenge a prosthetic for Beth's dad when he lost his leg," Mason replied. "But it took a while to find."

Eugene looked doubtful. "Odds are any that might have been laying around have been snatched up, but we will keep our eyes out. Until then, I think I could set him up with a nice sturdy base and multiple interchangeable attachments. For different purposes, you know. The Swiss Army knife of prosthetics. Might be a bit of a MacGyver concoction, but I can make it work."

Mason smiled a little. "I think he'll like that. His brother would have been ecstatic."

 _Fuck yeah, I would. Goddammit, where the hell was your geek boy booty call when I lacked my own right hook?_

Eugene peered at her curiously. "Who are you hearing?"

The question caught her so off guard that she felt her blood pressure drop.

She gaped at him, trying desperately to make her mouth form words.

"I...I...what?"

He blinked kindly. "After Beth, you told me that you sometimes heard her speaking to you. I couldn't help noticing then that you sometimes... _reacted_ as though someone were indeed talking, and it has happened much more frequently since we escaped. Pardon me for being so frank. I just am naturally curious, especially when it comes to you."

A rush of gratitude overwhelmed her. He was offering her an outlet to talk about it without having to bring it up herself.

"How did you know?" she asked quietly. "I mean, like, how did you know it wasn't Beth?"

"You had a look of such intense irritation on your face that the vitriol alone could have corroded the hulls of ten thousand ships. I figured Beth probably never elicited such a combative reception."

She laughed under her breath. "Merle. I was hearing Merle."

"Ah. Well, from what everyone tells me, that was the only appropriate response."

 _Fuck you, you lyin' ass weenie._

Eugene's lips twitched. "What is he saying now?"

"He said 'fuck you, you lyin' ass weenie'."

He snorted with amusement and Mason experienced a moment of such acute unreality that she wondered if maybe she were dreaming. Confessing to Eugene about hearing Beth was one thing. Confessing to hearing other voices was another. But relaying what they said? Laughing about it? It was stranger than strange, and yet...

It felt okay. It felt right.

So she told him about it. All of it, every conversation she'd had with the voices. And Eugene listened without judging, without laughing- at least, unless one of the voices said something funny. And she was blindsided all over again by how perfect he was for her, how precisely the two of them fit together, and how intimately he understood her without even trying.

How had she gone her whole life without him?

"You know, sometimes their individual voices are clear, but sometimes they're all at once. Kind of like... The best way I can explain it is, you know, when you would leave the windows in your house open on a summer day? And you could hear people outside just...talking and going about their business, but it all blended together into white noise?"

"Of course," Eugene replied. "Sometimes your mind just leaves the windows open."

She smiled. Eugene cocked his head.

"What?"

"I want to marry you so bad, Eugene Porter."

"Oh." A blush crept into his cheeks. He ducked his head shyly, clearly not expecting this answer. "Well, I...I want to marry you, too, Mason Reynolds. All things being equal, I have dreamed of that that since... Uhm, never mind."

"Wait, wait, no, that's not how this works," Mason protested. "Since when?"

His blush deepened. "Since the library."

Mason blinked and realized that she was blushing, too. "Really?"

"Yes."

She thought of that night- getting high with him and talking about the most ridiculous shit, laughing until her stomach hurt, risking their lives just to go stargazing.

Singing for the first time since losing the prison, because he had inspired that in her. He had inspired her to come alive again.

Abruptly she grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him, anxious to convey exactly how she felt in that moment. His lips were passionate but gentle against her own, and she knew he understood.

"So," she finally breathed, bumping her nose against his. "What's the hold up?"

He laughed. "Waiting for the right time."

"I can think of at least a dozen off the top of my head."

"You're just impatient. I want it to be perfect. I want it to take you by surprise like you took me by surprise."

She melted a little. "So you want it to jump out of a cornfield covered in blood and swinging a fire iron?"

"Exactly that sentiment, just maybe without the blood."

"I bet I beat you to it."

Slowly his eyes narrowed. "Is that a challenge, Miss Reynolds?"

"You heard me say 'I bet', didn't you?"

"Alright, you're on. First one to propose wins."

"Wins what?"

"A pretty rock," he said with smirk.

"I love how clever you think you are."

They cuddled closer and lapsed into companionable silence for a while, relishing the sound of each other's heartbeats. But after a while, Mason frowned.

"Hey," she said. "When we were in the munitions factory, you had this look on your face. Like you'd seen a ghost or something."

She felt him stiffen just slightly, but his voice was calm when he replied, "I told you. I was just remembering something."

"Well, remembering what? Because you looked...I don't know." She didn't know why she was pushing it, only that the darkness she'd seen behind his eyes had pricked at her no matter how hard she tried to dismiss it.

He sighed. "Mason, I don't think... It was just a passing memory."

"Then why are you trying so hard not to talk about it?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then he pressed his nose to the top her head. His breath warmed her, but the words he spoke next chilled her to the bone.

"That was the room where I decided I was going to die...and the room where I decided not to."

Her heart slowed to a standstill.

"What...what are you talking about?" she whispered.

"After you and Daryl were taken, I was...consumed. Equal parts rage and guilt. I didn't have a plan. I knew I was going to make my bullet and I knew I was going to get into that compound no matter the cost because you were in there, and I was either going to break you out or die trying. But it was a suicide mission, and I knew that as surely as I knew the sun was going to set in the west. I was...I _wanted_ to die. After that night."

Mason closed her eyes, trembling a little. Because she'd been there before, more than once. And imagining Eugene in that same dark place, in that much pain... It was intolerable.

"Dying is not my greatest fear anymore," he continued. "Because there are things worth that, there are things worth giving your last breath to. But dying for nothing? I will not be doing that. When I die, it is going to serve a purpose."

"I don't like this conversation," Mason said uneasily.

His arms tightened around her. "My sincerest apologies, May. But you...you wanted to know."

"I know, but..." She burrowed her face in his chest until she could feel his heartbeat against her nose. "You're not going to die, okay? We promised each other."

"Okay," he murmured. "Now it would probably be wise to try get some sleep."

She nodded, breathing in the smell of him. But his confession had left a sour feeling in her stomach, and though she eventually managed a tentative unconsciousness, her anxiety followed her there.


	11. In the Hall of the Mountain King

Hey, guys, finally finished this chapter and it's sort of a little bit all over the place but hopefully ya'll enjoy it. The chapter song is "In the Hall of the Mountain King", which if you don't know by it's title you would definitely know by its sound. It was originally an orchestral piece by Edvard Grieg, but the version I used as inspiration is a cover by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, and it just. fits. perfectly. (Also we have a little bit of Journey action going on in this one, because why the hell not lol) Thank you guys for the reviews and support, I know I say it all the time, but ya'll are the real MVPs. (Also, lindir's gaze hell YES Rocket Raccoon is the literal best and also the reason I didn't cry the whole time through Infinity War...but we won't talk about that lol) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

11\. In the Hall of the Mountain King

 **Mason**

"So there he was, right in the taint of battle, just throwing motherfuckers left and right. It was _stunning._ Like, he was just all-"

"I'm sorry, did you just say 'the _taint_ of battle'?"

"Yeah. You know, like between the asshole and the-"

"I know what a fucking taint is."

"Yeah, so anyway, he fucking sideswipes this guy and then..."

Mason rolled her eyes as Dave continued his story, but secretly she was pleased. For the third time, the Misfits had asked him to chronicle the tale of Eugene jumping in to help Dray and Charlie, and its appeal only seemed to grow with each retelling.

Eugene himself sat squished between Tanner and Charlie, somehow looking both thoroughly content and thoroughly embarrassed. It had been demanded of him that he teach them all redirection techniques, and he'd agreed, though he'd been quick to explain that he was not an expert.

"To be quite candid, I really just adopted techniques from aikido and molded them to fit my needs," he'd said. "But the science and physicality behind that way of fighting is fascinating."

Mason sat on the couch opposite him, Daryl huddled up against her side. He'd taken to clinging either to her or Eugene whenever the others were around, so much like a feral animal that it hurt sometimes to look at him. His hand rested in hers; she drew soothing circles on his wrist with her thumb, but his pulse remained erratic.

Eventually he brushed his head earnestly against her shoulder. "I'm goin' back to the bedroom," he murmured.

"Do you need some company?" she whispered back.

He shrugged. "Sure."

Casting a quick, meaningful glance at Eugene- whose eyes darkened a bit with concern- she got up to follow Daryl back to Ashlee's room.

He sat on the floor again, in the nest he'd burrowed for himself out of Ashlee's mess. Mason sat on the bed, unsure of whether he needed space now or not. They were silent for a while, Daryl staring up at the ceiling, Mason fiddling with the frayed end of a blanket.

"Negan got Sherry pregnant."

Though Daryl's voice was quiet, Mason jolted as though he'd shouted. Her jaw dropped, horror creeping through her veins the way winter stole over the mountain.

"He _what_?"

"She miscarried, but...yeah. She had a hard time with it. She didn't want to feel glad about such a shitty thing, you know? She wants kids, just..."

He didn't have to finish.

Not with Negan. Not _for_ Negan.

"I tried to be there for her. As much as I could, you know, trapped in a cement block. When she came to see me, she'd just...cry. After Negan made Dwight his second, and after...after you...Sherry wasn't able to see Dwight so much."

 _After you._

Right. Because she'd played her part so well, Negan had thought she was devoted to him.

And Sherry suffered for it.

Mason closed her eyes.

"Stop," Daryl said, and she blinked to find him watching her sternly. "I know what you're doin'. I ain't tellin' you this so you can go getting your feelings in a twist."

She scowled. "Stop assuming you know me."

"You're right, I don't know shit. You're a total stranger."

He smiled a little then, the first real one she'd seen in what felt like an eternity. She smiled, too.

Then he sighed. "When she came to tell me about it, you know...it was this horrible thing. But at first all I could think was that that could have been you. So easily."

Her blood chilled at the thought. Not just about carrying Negan's hellspawn, but...getting pregnant at all. It terrified her. If she thought too long about it, it was hard to breathe.

Daryl nodded like he could read all this in her face. "I'd never been more glad that you had gotten out than that moment."

Mason shivered. It was selfish to be grateful, too, but there it was. One relieved little spark, and then she felt guilty about _that_.

"Does Eugene know?" Daryl asked, clearly eager to steer the conversation away from Sherry. "That you don't want kids?"

"He knows."

"He doesn't want 'em either?"

"No. We talked about it, after we first, um, got together. Between you and me, I think he'd make a really terrific dad, and I think if I changed my mind he'd be willing to try, but..."

She trailed off, unwilling to reveal, even with Daryl, what Eugene had shared in confidence. That he was terrified of screwing anything up, terrified of passing on the darkness in himself to a child.

"And, I confess, I...I'd like you all to myself," he'd told her. "You're the greatest thing ever. I can't imagine ever loving or wanting anything else."

Which had made it easy to come to an agreement on the matter.

"It's not in the cards," she finished. "Besides, I think I have enough kids to keep an eye on."

Daryl snorted. "Guess you do. I mean, they're all like the same age as you, but, yeah."

"But I'm clearly the most mature one here, so..."

"Still just as hilarious as I remember. Know what else is hilarious? My brother lost his right hand, too." Daryl examined his stump with an expression that suggested he didn't think it was very hilarious at all. "If he were around, he'd have the Saviors runnin' scared."

Mason shook her head. "No. Negan would have executed him by now. Don't tell me he picked Abraham at random. It was tactical."

"He shoulda killed us."

There was that fire again, sparking in his blue eyes. And in its cage, her own fire echoed back his anger.

"Yeah, he probably should've," she said.

"When do you think we'll go back to Alexandria?"

Mason hesitated. Yesterday they'd taken Daryl to see the Safe Zone, which was still burning. Half of the buildings were devastated. There would be nothing left of them to salvage, though Mason had doubted there ever would have been.

Daryl had said nothing, just stood there at the threshold of the gate and watched the flames for an hour. Then, equally as silently, he'd turned around and climbed back into the truck. Eugene had promised that once the blaze was dead, they would return to see if there was anything to scavenge.

But...

That wasn't what Daryl was asking. Not exactly.

"I don't know," she murmured. "That's up to the fire."

~m~

"How is he?" Eugene asked, leaning against the wall next to Mason while they watched the Misfits train.

Mason stifled a sigh. "I don't know. He's..." _Like I was_. "He keeps dancing around how he's really feeling."

"Can't say I'm surprised. He was always like you that way."

She grimaced. "Then I guess we'll need to keep him away from Tanner for a while."

He chuckled. "That would probably be wise."

"Stop talking about me!" Tanner hollered, slamming Dray onto the floor.

"Oh, fuck you, dude," Dray grunted.

"By the way, where's that redirection lesson, huh? Thought that was forthcoming."

Eugene pursed his lips and nodded. "I suppose now is as good a time as any. Mason? Would you like to help me demonstrate?"

She frowned. "This is gonna be revenge for all those times I knocked you on your ass, isn't it?"

"Oh, of course not, May." His eyes gleamed mischievously.

Grumbling under her breath, she followed him reluctantly to the center of the room. The Misfits trudged wearily out of their way, passing around water bottles and granola bars, chattering in anticipation.

Eugene faced her with a look that was too innocent. "Alright. Attack me."

She narrowed her eyes and did as asked. But the punch she threw never landed, or at least not where she intended. His arm came up, not to block the attack, but to send it back her way. Her own fist caught her in the chin.

She stared at him in shock for a moment. His eyes glittered- a clear challenge.

So she came at him again, littering him with punches.

All of which never landed.

Because he moved in time with her, not just matching each blow, not just blocking them, but diverting them. After a few seconds she felt horribly off balance, as though _she_ were on the defensive, and then, out of nowhere-

She was on her ass, blinking in comical bewilderment.

The Misfits cheered.

So did the voices, Abraham among the loudest.

"Ya'll are way too delighted to witness my downfall," she growled, taking the hand Eugene offered and letting him pull her to her feet.

"Oh my god, you fucking _have_ to teach me!" Tanner said.

"Ooh, me, too!" Dave agreed, bouncing up and down. "I wanna take down the queen!"

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Mason."

Eugene grinned. "Aikido is principally a way of unifying with life energy. It is, admittedly, a martial art that practices peace, so the manner in which I have adopted it is not quite a true interpretation. But redirection will quickly take an attacker off guard and- Well, you can think of it as a way of energy efficiency."

He motioned to Mason to attack him again, who did so with a groan. This time she tried sweeping Eugene's legs from under him, but he stepped back into her movement, half-turning to knock his arm against her shoulder. It wasn't a terribly forceful blow, but she was already so unsteady that she went sprawling.

"You're pulling your punches," Charlie drawled.

"And yet I still sent her to the floor," Eugene replied. "Why? Because I shifted her kinetic energy, used _that_ to my advantage without expending a surplus of my own."

He hooked his hands under Mason's arms and lifted her up; she looked up as he did, her head lolling against his chest.

"Hey," she whispered.

"What?" he whispered back.

"You suck."

He laughed and kissed her forehead. "Monster."

"Dick."

"Monster dick?"

"Shut the hell up and pick a new guinea pig."

~m~

Dwight arrived late at the rendezvous point. Mason tried not to feel sorry for him as he approached, but it was a struggle. He was haggard with exhaustion, his eyes red and rimmed with shadows, his hair matted. He was smeared with soot and walker blood, as if he hadn't had a chance to clean up after the attack on the compound.

He gave them an approximation of a smile, holding his hands in the air while Dave and Tanner patted him down. "Morning."

"Howdy," Eugene replied flatly.

Satisfied that he had no weapons on him aside from the knife at his belt, Tanner and Dave stepped back, cradling their own guns with casual menace.

Dwight's gaze flickered to Daryl, and his expression became more genuine. "Hey."

Daryl dipped his head in greeting. "Ya'll alright?"

"It's definitely not peaches and cream, but we're managing." Dwight glanced back at Eugene and Mason. "So where's the rest of your crew? I thought there were more of them."

Only Daryl, Tanner and Dave were visible. The rest of the Misfits were hidden in trees with guns and arrows, keeping watch for any sign of an ambush. But they weren't about to tell him that.

When nobody answered, Dwight nodded. "Okay."

"How many are left?" Mason asked, trying to emulate Eugene's perfect poker face.

"Fifty-seven. That's not counting the ones at the outposts, but...that brings his numbers down to about two hundred."

"Where are they stationed now?"

Dave and Tanner tensed as Dwight reached into his pocket, but all he pulled out was a folded piece of paper.

"This is a list of all the outposts, their locations and their numbers," he said, handing the paper to Mason. "We're scattered right now until Negan decides where it is we'll live. The highest population is in the ghost town where your people are."

"Why do you not just reside there?" Eugene asked.

"It's exposed, it doesn't have a barrier, and after how you guys used the deadwall..." Dwight shrugged. "He's weighing his options. There's a possibility he might take another community... Which reminds me, who in the hell turned Alexandria into a hibachi? A few of us went by there yesterday, saw it burning its way into oblivion."

He eyed them carefully- trying to take them by surprise so he could feel out their response.

But Eugene was impassive as he spoke. "It's as much of a mind-boggler to us. Could have been a happy accident for all we know."

Dwight smiled a bit. "Yeah, I kinda doubt that, but alright."

And Mason couldn't help feeling a twinge of grim satisfaction. Her home was gone, but Negan couldn't have it, either.

"What other communities would he consider taking?" Eugene asked.

"He's narrowed it down to the Hilltop and the Kingdom."

Mason and Eugene exchanged a glance. The Kingdom again, something they'd only ever heard mentioned a few times in the compound.

"Negan never told you about that one, did he?" Smugness colored Dwight's tone. "The Kingdom's a community south of here. Been playing ball for a while, but Ezekiel- the leader; they call him King- he's never liked Negan. They have a pretty nice set-up."

A man whose community called him King? Mason narrowed her eyes. Arrogance like that was dangerous.

Eugene, however, looked contemplative. "Would they fight back if incurred upon?"

"They didn't when we made them kneel the first time."

"Yes, but they were also guaranteed to keep their home and half of their things."

"Negan wouldn't kick them out if we moved in."

"No, they'd just have to live right under his nose twenty-four seven," Mason growled. "I don't know about you, but I know which option I'd go with."

Dwight stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Guess you have a point."

She held up the paper. "Look, thanks for this. Really. The risks you're taking...they're not easy."

"Neither are yours, so...thank you."

It was tentative, awkward, but the sense of comradeship was there all the same. Out of nowhere, Mason found herself missing AJ.

"When would it be possible for you to meet us again?" Eugene asked.

Dwight sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. It was all I could do to get away today. My leash is pretty tight at the moment."

"What about Sherry?" Mason suggested.

His eyes darkened. "Do you know what would happen if she was caught?"

"I don't know, maybe the same thing that would've happened if she'd been caught stealing the key to Daryl's cell?" She glared at him. "I know the risks, Dwight. She would want to take them. She'd want to help. If you can't trust anyone else, it has to be her."

"She's right," Daryl murmured. "Sherry ain't satisfied with kneeling. Not anymore."

For a moment, the tension that crackled between the two men startled Mason. She blinked, half-expecting Dwight to attack Daryl. But after a long pause, Dwight just moved his head in what might have been a nod.

"If I can't come, Sherry will meet you here in three days. Keep your eyes open," he added. "I'm doing all I can to keep your identities secret, but unless you plan on wearing disguises I'd make sure to kill every Savior who sees you."

"Yes, we'd already factored that in, thanks," Eugene said coolly.

"Just trying to help, _friend_."

Yeah, there was no way they were ever going to like each other.

Dwight wished them luck before leaving. They stayed in a tight formation until he'd disappeared among the foliage. Once he was gone, the other Misfits emerged from their hiding places.

"Guy rubs me the wrong way," Charlie said.

"He's a douche," Tanner agreed.

"Takes one to know one," Mason said.

"Watch it, Reynolds."

"So where do we head first?" Renee asked.

Mason opened the paper and everyone gathered around to read.

 **Alpha**

She wasn't great at sewing, but she wasn't terrible. It wasn't as though she needed to do much anyway, aside from a few inner pockets and the buttons, of course. She had to make the fabric paint herself, but that was the easy part. She and Mason had learned the process when they'd made their own t-shirts for a Knife Party concert.

While she worked, she listened to the methodical sounds of Murph tooling away in his workshop. All but one of his patients were dead, his findings slim. She knew he would be pushing soon to make another trip to the hospital, but the one with the supplies he needed was several cities away and things were just getting interesting here.

When she was done, she examined the cloaks- one for the Reaper and one for the Chemist.

She hoped the Chemist would get good use out of it. She really did.

Because in the end, she intended that cloak for herself.

 **Mason**

Seven men, gathered around a campfire.

It was too fucking easy.

There were booby traps set up around the site, but Eugene detected each one and Dray helped him disarm them.

Mason led Tanner, Ashlee and Renee into the camp while Eugene and the others kept watch. Just in case the simplicity was a lure. But though the men were clearly on edge, they were not the bait in a trap. Their eyes were wide with surprise, which quickly turned to horror, as Mason and her crew leapt out of the darkness and began slaughtering them. Really, they could have picked them off with arrows or bullets and it would have been effortless, but Mason wanted the Misfits to practice their hand-to-hand.

All of the Saviors recognized Mason. It made her skin crawl.

They interrogated no one, let no one live. She was intensely proud of her Misfits, who handled the whole thing quite well considering Tanner and Renee had only ever killed a handful of people, and Ashlee none.

They stripped the bodies of their weapons and anything else useful, took all the food from the campsite and loaded it into the truck. Then they loaded the bodies into the trailer.

They'd left the brains intact. The Saviors would come in handy once they turned.

Use everything you could use.

~m~

They found the package on their run the next morning.

Mason was leading the pack, so absorbed in her music that she almost missed it. But a ray of newborn sunlight caught the edge of the trash bag, folded so neatly and sat up against a tree like it was waiting for someone.

She pulled to a halt, holding up a quick silent signal.

 _Red._

Everyone went on alert immediately, clustering together back to back and drawing their weapons. Side by side, Mason and Eugene approached the package. She saw no evidence that it was a snare or an ambush, but her heart beat slow and steady with readiness.

Mason flashed a signal at Eugene: _quality assurance._ Then she poked the bag with her fire poker.

It fell over. Nothing happened. Cautiously, Mason picked it up and opened it.

She blinked in confusion at first, running her hand over the fabric inside. There was a letter on top; Eugene plucked it out and read it aloud to the Misfits who had huddled around them.

"'A gift, for the vigilantes of the apocalypse. For the Chemist and the Reaper. From a friend.'"

"Who the hell are they?" Dave asked as Mason pulled the fabric from the bag- cloaks, she realized, durable and hooded, one of black and one of darkest blue.

"Who the hell do you think?" Tanner replied, smacking his hand against Eugene's shoulder. "Chemist."

"Yeah, okay, but...the Reaper?"

Mason held her breath.

 _You're a goddamn reaper, doll._

"It's me," she whispered. Everyone looked at her. "I'm...the Reaper."

After a moment, Tanner grinned. "Of course you are. Who else is ruthless enough to be?"

But she was too horrified to be flattered. " _He_ said that," she breathed, and then she looked up, her eyes darting to Eugene's. Instinctively reaching out for him as the memory overwhelmed her. " _He_ called me that."

Eugene frowned. "But this isn't...this isn't from him."

"Who the fuck else would know what he said? It was just us."

"Out in the woods, right? Anyone could have been listening."

Her mounting paranoia halted. "Your friend," she said. "The one who opened the gate that night."

Eugene nodded. "I think it has to be, right? It's even the same slapdash handwriting."

Suddenly she felt foolish for overreacting, but Eugene just smiled softly and gave her a brief silent signal: _quality assurance._

"It's not just the cloaks, guys," Renee said, reaching into the bag to pull out two motorcycle scarves. Both black, both with matching skeleton mouths on the front.

"Huh," Tanner said and then motioned impatiently to Mason and Eugene. "Well, let's see it, then."

"Which cloak is which, though?" Dave wondered.

"Kinda doubt that matters-"

"No, it does. Look," Ashlee said, pointing to a design painted on the back of the blue cloak. A complex red swirl. A flame.

And on the back of the black cloak, a jagged scythe stood out in bone-white.

Exchanging a glance, Mason and Eugene donned their respective cloaks and wrapped the motorcycle scarves around the lower halves of their faces. With the hood pulled up, Mason felt shadowed, secure.

But the Misfits stared at them, eyes wide. After a moment, she and Eugene began to fidget.

"Well?" she growled.

"You two look terrifying," Dave said. "It's fucking _perfect_. Oh my god, I have goosebumps."

Mason rolled her eyes, but Dray nodded in agreement. "You two look like you're about to ring in the apocalypse. You know, if it hadn't already happened."

So she glanced at Eugene, and... Fuck, he looked fearsome. Formidable. Only his eyes- blinking in awe at her own appearance- gave away the fact that he wasn't, in fact, a specter straight from the abyss.

And then Charlie said, "Horsemen of the apocalypse."

Her eyes glittered with meaning as she regarded Mason, who was remembering the day Charlie had shown her the hiding places for their weapons. Who had showed her the gimmick knife, and how the men on her block had thought twice when they'd seen it on her belt.

 _Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of dressing up to turn a dark horse into the Fourth Horseman._

She laughed a little, just one breathless huff. "It's strategy," she said. "Not just to hide our identities from the Saviors, but to _scare_ them."

"Give 'em something to look over their shoulder for. Something to talk about in dark places," Charlie added.

"Mind games," Eugene said, his voice bright with cunning excitement.

Mason grinned, her blood surging.

"We'll be like fucking boogeymen in this bitch."

~m~

The ascendancy of the vigilantes officially began the next night, when they went to the next location on the list. There were twelve men at this site, which was no more than a campfire in the middle of a triangle of trucks.

The Misfits had a multitude of options at their disposal- fire, bomb arrows, walkers. But they decided on the more intimate route, partly because they wanted the Saviors in one piece and partly because they were anxious to lay the groundwork for their new fear tactic.

Eugene led the pack this time- Dray, Charlie and Dave, while Mason and the others kept watch outside. Though half of her attention was trained on the woods surrounding them, she couldn't help taking notes on the way the three newbies fought. Couldn't help noticing the way Dray and Charlie fought together, like they'd been doing it for years. And though as a whole their movements weren't quite as streamlined as Renee, Tanner or Ashlee, they still did very well.

By the end, there were eleven dead bodies- all of them salvageable time bombs just waiting to turn. The twelfth man they left alive, his arm pinned to the tire of a truck with one of Eugene's arrows.

Charlie leaned down to press her gimmick knife to his throat, and indeed he paled at the sight of it.

"The Reaper has decided to spare your life," she said, at the same moment that Mason stepped into view. Just like Eugene, she was fully decked out in her new disguise. She'd left her fire poker behind- too recognizable- and she didn't speak, in case the Saviors somehow also remembered her voice.

It would be enough for Negan to wonder whether or not it was her, to think himself crazy for considering it. Confirming it for him would ruin the fun.

Charlie knocked the man out once he'd gotten an eyeful of Mason. No one bothered to pull the arrow from his arm. Ashlee stood guard over him while the others loaded the bodies into the trailer.

Daryl waited in the back of the truck, hunched on the edge of the tailgate and glaring at the ground as though it had personally wronged him. When he spotted Mason, however, the full force of that glare turned on her.

She sighed, removing the scarf from her mouth so he could understand her better. "Stop giving me that look."

"Stop treating me like a casualty. I ain't some fragile thing you need to protect."

She pinched his knee, making him jump. "Yes, you are, and I'm gonna protect you whether you like it or not."

"I'm serious, Mason."

"So am I. You're still not in any shape to go plunging your grumpy ass into battle."

"She's right," Renee said, coming up behind her.

Daryl scowled. "I'll decide what I'm in shape for."

"No, you won't," Renee replied, her tone so biting that Mason flinched. "Do _you_ have a nursing degree? Did you spend six years toiling after ungrateful shits like yourself who thought they could tell me how to do _my_ job to get that degree? No? Then you _don't decide_. You're better when _I_ say you're better. Got it?"

Mason stared, wide-eyed, between them, prepared to jump in if necessary but kind of wishing she was anywhere else.

To her shock, however, Daryl looked down and mumbled, "Yes, ma'am."

Renee nodded briskly. "Good. I think we're ready to head back now."

Mason saluted her. "Yes, ma'am."

With a soft snort, Renee tugged playfully on Mason's hair and climbed into the cab of the truck. Mason hopped onto the tailgate with Daryl and waited a few seconds before making chicken noises.

"Hey, I dare you to cross her," Daryl muttered.

"No way, I prefer my organs where they are."

Dave, Ashlee, Dray and Eugene sat with them in the back of the truck. Dave and Dray chattered animatedly about some TV show she'd never heard of. Eugene and Ashlee argued over which _Star Wars_ movie was the best. Daryl leaned his head over the side of the truck, eyes closed as the wind played through his hair. Mason watched him, a quiet weight settling in her stomach.

Almost three months in a cement cell. Three months in the dark, without a breath of the outside world.

She had been in that dark with him. She had promised to stay by his side.

 _Calm your tits, girl. My baby brother's right. Ya'll had to get out._

 _You know, every time I hear that I feel so much better, thanks!_

 _He dreamed of you. And when he didn't dream of you, he dreamed of Eugene. Ya'll were the reason he stayed sane in that place._

Something caught in her throat. _You can't know that,_ she thought. _You're just a voice in my head._

 _Maybe. But he knew he was gonna be free one day. And he knew it was gonna be because of you. So quit your whinin'._

And because Merle said it, because he was Daryl's brother, she believed it.

~m~

"Hey, Dave, dinner's-"

Mason broke off at the sight of Dave, hunched in a ball on the edge of his bed. He jumped when she spoke, wiping frantically at his eyes, which were red and puffy with tears.

"-ready."

"Oh, shit, yeah," he rasped. "Sorry. I'll-I'll be out in a second."

He threw her what might have been a grin and looked away just as quickly, sniffling.

Mason frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just thinking about the plight of the honeybees. You know, they pollinated for us without a second thought and we tried to kill them off. Super huge dick move on our part, but now they're free to pollinate as they please and I guess it's kind of poetic justice. I just get really emotional about benevolent insects."

"I don't think you could be more full of shit if you tried."

Dave huffed. "Well, maybe I'm not trying to convince you _why_ I'm crying, maybe I'm just hoping you'll take the hint and leave."

A bad night. This was a bad night for his usual sunshine to have slipped so much. Dave never snapped at anyone. She couldn't leave him to fight whatever was wrong by himself.

She sat next to him on the bed. "If you think I'm leaving now, you're crazy," she said gently.

The tears started up again as he ground his teeth. "Goddammit, Mason, you don't...you wouldn't get it, okay?"

"What wouldn't I get?"

"You're good at this shit. I see you when you fight, you relish it. I'm not... I befriended my bullies, okay? If someone stole my lunch money, I'd offer to buy them dessert. And maybe that made me a pushover but that's how I dealt with it, that's how I made friends, and I just can't..."

His eyes squeezed shut. Tears rolled down to his chin, catching in the divots of the cuts on his face.

"Look, I'm not saying that...I think we shouldn't be doing this. I know we should. I know we have to. But the other night- that man, _the first person I've ever killed_... I mean, he had to die, I _know_ that, and I know the Saviors are horrible fucking people but I can't get his face out of my head, it's just _there._ Every damn minute since then, I can't...stop..."

Mason ached with sorrow. "Dave..."

"I'm never gonna come back from that," he said. "This is a part of me now. This is..."

He dissolved into sobs then and Mason quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her chest. His hands clutched at her back, digging in so tight it hurt, but she didn't care.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was thick, choked with grief at what she knew very well he had lost. "Dave, I'm so sorry."

It was a while before he cried himself out. His face stayed buried in her neck the whole time, his grip on her never loosening, even when the tears trailed away into sniffles.

"Thanks for letting me snot all over you," he finally murmured. His voice was still heavy with remorse, heavy with the new weight he would carry for the rest of his life. But he didn't sound quite so close to losing it.

She smiled a little. "It's no problem, I double as a handkerchief."

Dave let out a broken sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and bumped his head against her shoulder. "You're such a good mom, Mason."

A blush colored her cheeks. "O-oh, well. Uhm." She coughed shyly. "I don't know about that, but...thanks. Now, you think you're ready to eat? Your food's probably getting cold."

"Sounds like something a mom would say..."

"Oh my god. Come on, before I ground you."

Mason got to her feet, waiting patiently while Dave cleaned his face.

"And, you know, I _do_ understand," she said after a moment. He looked at her doubtfully but she persisted. "I'm used to this life. And I relish it, yeah, when it's someone I know deserves it. But it was hard for me, too, at first. It's a grueling thing, taking a life for the first time, even if it was the right thing, even if you wouldn't take it back. Whenever you need to talk, or cry, or whatever, I'm here, okay? Always."

Dave smiled, his eyes still swimming a bit.

"Yes, Mom."

~m~

"And, see, in here I carved out notches so that the attachments will stay in place under impact or strain," Eugene said, holding the base of Daryl's new "hand" out for Daryl and Mason to examine. "Obviously and unfortunately it is not a true prosthetic, but I think by providing several different auxiliary options it will get you by. When the war is over I intend to search every available hospital for a workable artificial hand."

Daryl took the base tentatively, as though it were an injured bird. "Thank you," he murmured.

Eugene nodded. "Try it on. I may not have the fit exactly right. I would suggest putting something on underneath to cushion it- a sock would probably work best."

"A _sock_?"

"Yes. Ashlee could probably lend you a fashionable one."

Without a word, Daryl turned and stalked out of the room. When he was gone, Eugene sighed.

"I truly do not know how probable it is that I can find a replacement for him. I am ninety-nine percent certain that anything myoelectric is out of the question, which leaves a body-powered harness... All things being equal, that is probably the most economical route- they're more durable and he won't run into any of the glitches a battery-reliant prosthetic would bring to the table."

"If we couldn't find one," Mason said slowly, "could you make one?"

"Maybe," he said. "With time. And the appropriate materials. I certainly couldn't do it now, but... Daryl's chomping at the bit to fight. What I've built for him will allow him to."

She grimaced and might have said more, but at that moment Daryl returned, looking grumpier than usual and sporting a Gryffindor sock on his right arm.

Mason snorted, trying in vain to disguise it as a cough when Daryl threw her a vicious glare. Eugene had only slightly more restraint, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Nice choice," he said.

"It was either this or the rainbow sequined one."

"Aww, man, rainbow sequins?" Mason whined.

Daryl snorted. "Why don't you wear 'em?"

"Oh, I'm gonna. I'm gonna rock that shit."

Daryl slid the base onto his wrist, turning it left and right thoughtfully. "It's a little tight," he said.

"That's good. Easier to shave the size down," Eugene said, handing over the first attachment. "I would imagine the hook will be the one you rely on most heavily. Not only is it a handy weapon- no pun intended-"

"Oh my god..."

"-but with practice it can function in ways similar to fingers."

When the hook was secure, Mason grinned. "Well, doesn't that just water your crops."

"It is going to take a lot of practice to master your movements," Eugene warned. "But I will work with you every day. We will get it down."

Daryl nodded, unable to look at Eugene, and Mason recognized his quietness for the gratitude that it was, for all the things he didn't know how to say.

"Now, I have two more attachments- one specifically for combat, and one for... Well, I intended it to assist with opening things, but the finished product also doubles as a blade sharpener, which I personally think is pretty rad..."

Mason stood back to watch while Eugene and Daryl went over the different fittings. Even now, it never failed to astound her how close the two had become, and how lucky they were to have each other.

How lucky she was to have them.

~m~

The meeting with Sherry mostly consisted of her and Mason hugging each other and crying. She didn't have much to report on her end, though what little she did was supremely satisfying.

"Negan's trying to stamp it out, but the whole community's buzzing with this Reaper business," she'd said. "No one but himself and a few bruisers are allowed in to see your people, so...I'd guess he's wondering if it's you guys. Of course, he's also still convinced the Kingdom had something to do with Alexandria getting their guns back, so there's a good possibility he thinks it's them, too. He's paying them a visit but he won't tell anybody when. You've really got him on edge."

Mason had nearly burst out of her skin with joy. She hoped he would remember the feeling. She hoped it would haunt him the rest of his life- which she intended to make very short and very painful.

"I do, however, happen to know that there is going to be a scouting party headed west in two days, and I only know that because Dwight's leading it. You guys can arrive at the camp ahead of them, make whatever preparations you want. Interested?"

The answer had been a resounding yes, especially from Daryl. Renee had finally given him the green light to go on missions so long as he stopped should his strength fail him.

Mason, of course, knew he wouldn't be doing so and had taken it upon herself to watch him like a hawk.

She sat next to him now in the back of the truck, waiting for Eugene to give them the go-ahead.

After a while, Daryl nodded to the necklace she wore. "That was Abraham's, wasn't it?"

Mason fingered the little red pendant, the one that had once belonged to Abraham. Eugene had given it to her a few months back and now they both had something to remember him by; he wore Abraham's gloves for every mission.

"Sasha and Rosita couldn't...you know. And it was..." She trailed off for a moment, swallowing the familiar burn of loss. "I just miss him, you know?"

"Yeah."

 _You ain't gotta miss me, girlie, I'm right here._

"Hey, you sure you're up for this?" she said, stifling the urge to grind her teeth. "I mean, you haven't had a lot of time to practice with-"

"I'm fine," Daryl snapped. "I told you. Been practicing using my left hand."

"Oh, _have_ you?" Mason replied, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

He tried to glare at her a moment longer but in the end he snorted. "Stop."

Suddenly the walkie talkie on Mason's belt crackled to life. "We're ready for you," Eugene said.

"Coolioz," Mason told him, switched off her walkie and hopped down from the truck. "Come on, Mr. Dixon, time to fuck shit up."

"Aye, aye, captain."

They crept through the dark toward the building where the Saviors had set up their camp. The Misfits had arrived hours earlier to see what they'd be working with, to draft out strategies in accordance with all the exits and hallways. If they were ready to set the plan in motion, that meant they'd been able to contact Dwight and key him in on the part he was to play.

A few yards from the building, Mason wrapped the scarf over her mouth and cowled her face with her hood. Daryl smiled a little at her appearance and she winked.

They were coming up on the north exit when they spotted the glow of the floodlights emanating from the windows. As they watched, that glow guttered frame by frame, sweeping from the south side of the building straight in their direction.

At that moment, Mason knew, Tanner, Dray, Charlie and Eugene were herding the men and locking them in what they'd decided to call the kill floor- a wide, empty room with only one exit and several easily removable ceiling tiles. That afternoon, she and Daryl and all the other Misfits had scraped off sections of the tar and gravel roofing for easy access. When the lights went out completely, a series of muffled crashes indicated that Ashlee, Renee and Dwight were right on schedule- hovering over the tiles they'd removed to bomb the room with glass bottles.

First, the bottles of bleach. Second, the bottles of ammonia.

The men started screaming as the chlorine gas filled the room. Daryl and Mason stood on either side of the door, far enough back that when it opened the fumes wouldn't reach them.

When it did open, the first man that stumbled out was clutching at his face, blistering from the chemical burns. Daryl shot him in the throat. Mason took down the next guy, Daryl the third, and back and forth they parried like this until six men lay on the ground. No one else ran out, and no sound came from inside. Mason and Daryl retreated from the open door.

They met up with the other Misfits by the south exit, the only other door leading in or out of the building. Dwight stood a little ways off, seeming unsure of whether or not he should be there.

"Holy s _hit_ , that was amazing!" Charlie exclaimed breathlessly, bouncing up and down in her exhilaration. "We need to fit in more chemical warfare, we just have to, it's way too badass."

Dray smiled, as though he regarded her lupine bloodlust more as kittenish charm. Not for the first time, Mason wondered if Charlie knew just how smitten he was with her.

"Perhaps it's time to reinstate my chemistry lessons," Eugene said, glancing between Charlie and Dray before rolling his eyes at Mason. She fought to hide her grin.

"So I guess it's my move now, right?" Dwight said, stepping forward.

Any trace of emotion was swept from Eugene's face. "Yes, and you're not going to like it."

"Yeah, I didn't figure I would."

Mason tried not to wince. The other Misfits fidgeted uncomfortably. They all knew the next part of the plan.

Dwight held his arms out in invitation, eyeing Eugene with resignation and dislike. "I'm not getting any older, frien-"

Eugene whirled forward, swinging his elbow up into Dwight's nose. Dwight went down with a hiss of pain; when he looked up, blood leaked down to his chin, staining his teeth.

"Thanks for not going for my dick."

Dray and Renee pulled him to his feet. He nodded in vague gratitude before spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"So," he said. "Where should we do this thing? I was thinking a tree, you know, would be easiest to pull myself out of-"

"I thought we weren't doing that," Dave interrupted, glancing from Eugene to Dwight with something like panic. "We don't have to do that."

But Eugene's eyes were cold, resolute as he stared at Dwight, whose expression was equally unwavering. The shared look of people who knew some things had to be done, no matter how unpleasant.

"It has to be believable," Eugene said.

"Don't worry about it," Dwight said to Dave. "If it keeps Negan in the dark about me, I really don't give a shit. It'll heal anyway."

So they watched as Dwight leaned his arm against a nearby tree, looking as casual as could be. Eugene readied his bow and nocked an arrow, but paused before firing.

"I will miss any major arteries but all the same I wouldn't pull the arrow out until you're in the doctor's office," he said. Then he let fly.

Dwight let out a shout as the arrow pinned his arm to the tree. Some of the Misfits gasped. Mason clenched her jaw to keep from making a sound.

" _Fuck,_ that stings!"

Daryl and Eugene helped pry him from the tree, careful to leave the arrow in his arm to staunch the bleeding. Renee inspected it briefly to make sure that his artery remained intact, but Eugene's aim was as flawless as ever.

"Do you need us to drive you closer to the community?" he asked Dwight. There was no congeniality in his tone, but it wasn't as frigid as before either.

"Nah. We're just fifteen minutes out, I'm good. Negan's probably gonna want to keep me close to home after this, so Sherry'll meet you guys at the rendezvous point four days from now, okay?"

After he'd driven away, the others loaded the trailer with the six bodies outside while Mason and Eugene searched the ground for the spent bullet casings. It was easy enough; the gleam of their flashlights bounced eagerly off of the metal, tiny little beacons in the dark.

"So I know you think it would be wiser to keep our distance, but I really think we should reconsider contacting this Kingdom for assistance," he said while they perused the undergrowth.

Mason groaned. "Dude, we've been over this. It's way riskier gambling on a bunch of strangers than it is to go it alone."

"You said that about the Misfits."

"The Misfits weren't living under the boot of a tyrant."

"Mason, you and I both know that if we challenge the Saviors alone, it is going to take time. A lot of time and a lot of effort. These missions we've been going out on have only been so successful because we've been dealing with pockets of the Saviors' greater number."

"There were more of them tonight."

"Twenty. Negan still has two hundred back in his domain." His expression was beseeching, earnest. "We could really use a few extra hands here. We can only juggle so much."

Mason sighed. "Let's talk about this tomorrow, alright? It's been a long night. Besides, I have something else I'd like to discuss with you."

"What's that?"

Pulling one of the casings from her pocket, she got down on one knee and held it out to him.

"Eugene Porter," she said. "Will you be my ride or die?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Doesn't count."

" _What_?"

"It's not a ring. It's gotta be a ring."

"Since when?"

"Since always. We need rules for this thing or it won't be fair. _Your_ problem is that you are far too competitive."

"Fuck you, I'm not competitive." She sniffed haughtily. "I just have to beat you at everything."

Eugene smirked and ruffled her hair. "Nice try, sport."

~m~

Two days later, Mason, Daryl and Eugene were out in the woods at the base of the mountain, working to acclimate Daryl to his makeshift hand. The rest of the Misfits remained behind at the house, partly to give Daryl some room. Being around anyone other than Mason or Eugene made him anxious, and considering how frustrating he found the acclimatization process, they figured he didn't need anymore stress.

Eugene was infinitely patient; without him, Daryl likely would have thrown his hook at a tree. As it was, he did slash a few trunks.

"Man, I'm fucking done withthis shit!" he shouted now, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

"Let's take a break," Eugene suggested. "It's about lunchtime anyway."

"I ain't goin' back to that house."

"We don't have to. I thought we could hunt our lunch, like the good old days."

"Then here." Daryl strode over, bearing his crossbow, and shoved it into Eugene's hands. "I won't hit anything."

As they set out deeper into the woods, Mason let Eugene take the lead so she could walk next to Daryl.

"I don't wanna talk," he growled without looking at her.

"Okay. I don't really wanna talk either."

His eyes narrowed at her cheerful tone. "Mason..."

"But if I _were_ to talk, I might say something like, oh, I don't know...it's only been a couple of days? And you're doing really well, despite what you think?"

"She would be right," Eugene said over his shoulder. "If she were, you know, to say those things."

Daryl huffed a sigh. "Hey, I appreciate what ya'll are trying to do, but-"

"You're just working hard to get your fill," Mason said in a tone heavy with allusion.

Eugene caught on immediately. " _Everybody_ wants a thrill."

Her lips twitched. "Are they paying anything to roll the dice?"

"Guys-"

"Oh, yes, but just one more time."

" _Guys-_ "

" _So d_ _on't stop believin'_ ," they chorused, ignoring Daryl's grimace. " _Hold on to that feelin'._ "

"Jesus fucking-"

" _Street lights! People_!"

"You're idiots," Daryl growled, but a faint smile was blooming on his face.

Mason swung an arm over his shoulder. "We're _your_ idiots. Also, next time we're singing Journey, I expect you to join in, because that's-"

Suddenly Eugene pulled to a halt, throwing them two silent signals in quick succession.

 _Quiet. Red._

Immediately they fell into their standard defensive position, shoulder to shoulder in a tight triangle. Mason wasn't sure at first what they were defending against until she heard a rustle in the trees to their right. Eugene aimed the crossbow toward the noise.

But a moment later he was lowering it, sagging back against Mason and Daryl. Not in a relaxed way, but as if something had knocked the breath from him. Slowly Mason turned, following his gaze.

The breath left her, too.

The figure that limped toward them, lowering the hood of her jacket, shook her head with an expression that was at once somehow surprised and not surprised at all.

" _Rosita_?" Mason whispered.

"I knew it," Rosita replied. "Only you guys would be singing 80's arena rock in the woods."

Then she shook her head again, eyes welling with tears, and closed the distance, arms wide as if to embrace them all at once.

So they let her, hugging her back just as fiercely, until Rosita finally stumbled. Favoring her right leg as though it was injured.

Mason frowned anxiously. "What's wrong?"

Rosita wiped the tears from her face. "It's a long story," she said. "I'll tell you ours if you tell us yours."

"Ours?" Eugene repeated.

From behind her, a second figure appeared, one they regarded with less delight.

"Hey, guys," Jesus said, seemingly unruffled by his cool reception.

"He's a friend," Rosita assured them. "And he's not the only one."

"You got some more hidin' in those trees back there?" Daryl asked.

But Rosita just smiled. "You should come with us," she said. And her face was lit up in a way it hadn't been since they were still living in Alexandria. As though she could barely contain her joy.

"There are some people who would really love to see you."


	12. Doing it For the Money

Hello, guys! So today's chapter is one of my favorites that I've written so far, it's got a lot going on in it that I've been excited to get to for a while now, so I really hope ya'll enjoy it. The chapter song is "Doing it For the Money" by Foster the People, and I highly, highly recommend listening to it. Not only is it a great song in general, but I think it really defines the characters and their war and everything. As always, thank you guys so much for the reviews and support, it always makes me so happy. Until the next chapter, let me know what you think!

12\. Doing it For the Money

 **Mason**

"I don't know what kind of luck was with me that I managed to escape, but when I pulled the rod from my leg I just started swinging."

Rosita led the way toward the edge of the woods, telling her macabre story as casually as though she were commenting on the weather.

But Mason and Eugene had stopped abruptly, blinking at each other in shock at what she had said just a moment before.

Rosita paused when she realized they weren't following. "What?"

"Um." Mason swallowed. "That thing she said...when she left you to the walker herd."

Understanding glinted in Rosita's eyes. "About the Reaper? Yeah, I thought it was just her lunatic ravings at the time, but...rumor has it there really is a Reaper out there, and whoever it is is causing all kinds of problems for the Saviors."

"Rosita..." Mason murmured shakily. "I'm the Reaper."

"...What?"

She nodded. "I'm the Reaper. Eugene is the Chemist. We've been snuffing out little pockets of Negan's men, taking their shit and leaving one in each group alive so that...so that word spreads."

Rosita gaped at them for a moment before letting out a breathless laugh. "I should've fucking known. Only you two."

"But then that means that this...Leslie?" Eugene said. "That means she is the one who's been aiding us all this time. My question is why. She is obviously a master manipulator-"

"With a bone to pick with me," Mason said. Quietly. Because her thoughts were suddenly very loud.

Eugene frowned and nodded. "Yes. There's that."

"Then why help us at all?" Daryl murmured. "I mean, why give you two that vigilante shit?"

"Well, she obviously has a bone to pick with Negan as well, whether or not her backstory is true- which I, for one, find dubious in the extreme."

Jesus cocked his head, looking more curious than disbelieving. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I, myself, am a master manipulator and thus very skeptical of others' narratives."

"So you don't think-"

"Leslie," Mason rasped, interrupting whatever Jesus had been about to ask. "What, um...what did she look like?"

She could feel Eugene watching her, likely alerted by the change in her tone, but her heart was pounding too fast, she felt too numb and burning to look at him.

"She was skinny but strong," Rosita said. "Red hair, green eyes. There were scars on her face, and one side of it was burned."

The world tilted a little, but...

It couldn't be her.

It couldn't be.

Gina was dead.

 _Don't be a fucking idiot._

Beside her, Eugene had stiffened. "Burned?" he echoed flatly.

"Yeah..."

Mason blinked, resurfacing slowly from her strange, impossible thoughts. "What is it?"

"The Wolf," he said. "The one I set on fire. She got away."

For a moment, they all stared at each other. Mason's hands trembled.

"Your cloak," she whispered. "On the back of it...the flame..."

"She's the only one who would have known me," Eugene said.

"The way you burned her, too," Daryl said. "She would've called you Chemist."

"Jesus fucking Christ..."

The horror in Eugene's voice raised goosebumps on Mason's arms. She reached out for him as he stumbled back, eyes wide, terrified by whatever it was he was seeing.

"Hey. Hey," she said, grabbing his hands.

"I let her live," he said. "I let her go."

"It's okay. Eugene."

His fingers shook in hers. "It's not. The things the Wolves did to our people, to the Misfits... I let her go and now, sure as _shit_ , look what she's done."

"Hey." Daryl grasped Eugene's arm. "Man, it ain't your fault. Shit happens, it ain't your fault."

Mason nodded, planting kisses on Eugene's hands. She recognized the distress in his eyes, recognized that it was not just this new revelation reeling him but the entire amalgamation of everything they'd endured until now.

"Breathe," she reminded him. "With me, remember?"

It was odd, being on the other side of a panic attack. But Eugene latched on quickly to her instructions, breathing in squares like Denise was always advising. In no time at all, he was back in control. Good coping mechanisms indeed.

She thumbed the pulse on his wrist, holding his gaze. "You're alright. We're alright."

He nodded, but when he spoke it was to say, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have any reason to be."

"That is not entirely true."

"If you hadn't let her go, then we wouldn't be alive right now. Or worse, we'd be rotting away in those cells back at the compound. She's a shit person, but it had to happen. It had to."

She could see he wanted to argue with her, but in the end he just dipped his head in reluctant acceptance.

After a moment, Rosita said, "Hey. I'm sorry, but...I don't understand. You guys have been in _contact_ with Leslie?"

"Not in person," Mason said. "She communicates through notes."

Notes that Mason herself had not read, and now she wished she had because if she'd seen the handwriting...

 _Stop. You're being ridiculous._

"So you don't actually _know_ that it's her."

But Mason shook her head. "It's her. On the night we escaped from the Saviors, she unleashed a whole herd of walkers on them. That was the same night you said she attacked you, right? It was a full moon?"

Rosita's eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"Rosita, there's so much we have to tell you..."

"And I want to hear all of it, but...wait. We're almost there."

"Where is it you're takin' us anyway?" Daryl asked as they resumed their pace. It wasn't Hilltop, that much they'd ascertained, though that made Jesus's presence all the more peculiar.

"To the Kingdom."

"The Kingdom as in Ezekiel's?" Eugene asked quietly.

Rosita started. "Yes."

"We heard about it through our...ally," Mason explained. Now wasn't the time to mention Dwight's involvement.

"So you haven't actually _met_ Ezekiel?"

"No."

Rosita and Jesus exchanged an amused glance.

"Then you're in for a treat."

They offered no more explanation than that, leaving the other three to look at each other in bewilderment. But then the trees cleared, and they came upon a highway with very little debris covering it, as though cars regularly traveled on it. Across from them, there sat a quaint house, overgrown by vines and bushes, and a cemetery bordering it. But the headstones did not instill any kind of eeriness in her. It was peaceful. She felt a strange sudden urge to lay down amid the graves.

"You never finished your story," Daryl said after a while.

"There's not really that much to tell after the whole Leslie thing," Rosita replied. "I was half-dead when some of Ezekiel's men found me. When I woke up, it was in the Kingdom."

"And you've been there ever since?" Eugene asked.

"Pretty much."

"What about you?" Mason turned to Jesus. "I thought you were with the Hilltop."

A shadow crossed his piercing blue eyes. "I was."

"...And?"

"And-" He exchanged a quick glance with Rosita. "I think I should wait to tell you the rest of the story."

"Maggie," Eugene said sharply. "Sasha. What about them?"

Anxiety burned in Mason's stomach, but before Rosita or Jesus could answer, two men on horseback appeared around a curve in the road. Mason, Eugene and Daryl tensed immediately, but Rosita held out a quelling hand.

"It's okay," she said. "They're part of the Kingdom."

None of them lowered their weapons, however, and she huffed impatiently.

As the men drew near, Mason noticed that they wore matching body armor over clearly-defined muscles. They were soldiers then.

How many more soldiers did they have, she wondered.

"Everything alright here?" one of them- a redhead who looked as though he could be Tanner's less-bulky brother- said.

"It's better than alright," Rosita replied, and when the redhead raised an eyebrow she nodded excitedly. "It's them. Some of them anyway."

The redhead lit up, grinning at Mason, Eugene and Daryl as though they were all old friends. "By all means, let's get them to the Kingdom. Colton, why don't you ride on ahead. Give 'em a little heads-up."

Rosita and Jesus talked with the redhead- whose name was Daniel- about people and places Mason didn't know, and she got the distinct feeling that they were avoiding having to explain anything else about Maggie and Sasha. From the nervous looks on Eugene's and Daryl's faces, they thought the same, but none of them were brave enough to broach it just yet. Just thinking about it made Mason's throat close up.

But very soon- quicker than Mason was expecting- the gates of the Kingdom appeared. Over the wall that fenced it in, she spotted tall brick buildings, and from within she heard...life. Children laughing and horseshoes on pavement and music.

Music. People singing. Her mouth popped open a little at the sound of it. Eugene glanced at her, his eyes soft, and gave her a little, hopeful smile.

Two guards- dressed in the same garb as Daniel and Colton- opened the gates for them, revealing a community that was startlingly large and more than quaint. The brick buildings were old but well-kept, the streets clean, the trees...fruit trees, Mason realized. They were blossoming in the tentative spring. She could smell them, sweetening the warm air.

And there was more of it, more of it that they couldn't see from where they stood, more of it hidden around the corners.

This was a place where people _lived_.

This was what Alexandria should have been.

The thought was a needle to her billowing delight. She deflated instantly.

"King Ezekiel's not here at the moment," Daniel told them. "But he'll be back soon and I'm sure he'll be very excited to meet with you. But, um, in the meantime..."

From around the corner of a school bus parked nearby, three figures appeared.

And at the sight of them, the very strength left Mason's legs and she stumbled back into Eugene.

Sasha, Carol and Morgan. All of them grinning with breathless joy, all of them bright-eyed with love and tears. Alive and standing right in front of her.

"Oh my god..." she whispered, and in the next moment they were suddenly all crushed together, crying and laughing and saying each others' names over and over like they were the only things making the moment real. Rosita stood a ways off with Jesus, watching through tears of her own.

Everything whirled, dreamlike, raw. She wanted it to be real. She was sure it was. But everything was such a blur of saltwater and reunion that she only absorbed glimpses. There was Sasha crushing Eugene in her arms, sobbing into his shoulder. There was Daryl with his forehead pressed to Morgan's, who murmured something in a voice so low she couldn't make it out. Or maybe that was just the ringing in her ears.

There was Carol, gently but firmly taking Mason's face in her hands, saying something...saying...

"...happened?"

She blinked repeatedly, trying desperately to shake the feeling of unreality consuming her. It was only then she realized Carol's face had changed from joyous to grave.

"Who did this to you?" Carol demanded, and it took Mason a moment to realize she meant her ear.

"O-oh. Negan," she said.

Sasha gasped sharply. "Daryl..."

And for the first time, they noticed Daryl's missing hand. Mason realized distantly that he must have taken great pains up until now to hide it in his jacket sleeve. He fidgeted, glancing at his shoes.

Carol was silent for a moment, gaping between the two of them, but when she spoke her voice was low and brittle, her eyes glittering with rage.

"And did Negan do that, too?" she said.

"Yeah," Daryl said, nodding and chewing on his lip.

"What the hell happened?" Sasha said.

"It's a long story," Eugene said.

"Where's Maggie?" Mason said, before anyone could respond.

She was the only one missing. Mason hadn't noticed at first in her shock, but now that she had she could not keep her veins from filling with ice.

Sasha, Carol and Morgan glanced at each other before looking to Rosita, as if for confirmation. But none of them seemed remorseful or grief-stricken. They only seemed as though they weren't sure they had permission to tell a particular secret.

Rosita inclined her head. "C'mon."

Narrowing her eyes, Mason followed, Eugene and Daryl close behind. Sasha, Carol and Morgan orbited them, and she could feel their silent inspection like the buzzing nearness of a bee.

Searching for more wounds, more stories yet to be told that had been carved into their bodies.

The people they passed by watched them curiously but without fear. And there were so _many_ of them, doing so many different things. Tending to gardens, corralling horses, eating peacefully under trees like life was nothing more than a picnic. A group of them sat in a quaint gazebo, painting. _Painting._ Mason couldn't help but stare.

Rosita stopped in front of a nondescript building and leaned through the front door to call softly, "They're here."

Mason waited, her breath hovering somewhere in the back of her throat. The world seemed suddenly very warm, her pulse suddenly very demanding.

When Maggie stepped out, it was not what she expected.

Maggie was not pregnant.

All this time, Mason had been picturing her belly growing rounder and rounder like a waxing moon. It was the ninth month. She should have been ready to pop.

But she wasn't. Because...because-

Mason felt the world narrow to a point, to the bundle in Maggie's arms. Tiny. So tiny, and making tiny sleepy noises in its blanket.

Maggie smiled, tears falling silently down her face.

"Hello, Mason," she rasped.

Mason tried several times to say Maggie's name, but her voice evaded her. In the end she just staggered forward and hugged her- carefully, so as not to disturb the baby. Tears ran down her own cheeks, smudging with Maggie's.

"You're here," Maggie murmured. Fiercely. As though she would fight the whole world to make sure that this remained the truth. "You're finally here."

And Mason nodded, feeling weak in comparison, her lips trembling as she spoke.

"I'm here."

 **Eugene**

He couldn't stop looking at Mason's face. The utter joy there was infectious, it lit her up from the inside. It had been so long since he'd seen her so ecstatic, and just the sight of it filled him with effervescence.

He couldn't believe the whole thing himself. It felt like a dream. He kept digging his nails into the palms of his hands, waiting for the pain to wake him up, but it never did. They were really here. They were really here with a part of their family they hadn't been sure were even still alive.

There wasn't time to tell their story before Ezekiel returned, but Mason and Maggie were able to catch up a little bit before Rosita led them into what she called the "greeting room".

"Tell me everything," Mason insisted, wiping at her eyes so she could see the baby.

"Her name's Grace Maia Rhee," Maggie announced proudly. "She was born on March third at nine fifty-seven p.m. and she weighed six pounds, two ounces."

"So she's a..." Mason paused to do some quick calculating. "Pisces! That's awesome, I love Pisces. You know, I was supposed to be one myself, I'm right on the cusp. We already have something in common."

Maggie laughed. "I'm sure she'll be excited to hear it."

"Oh my god, I'm gonna be the best fucking aunt. We are gonna get in so much trouble together."

This time, Maggie wasn't the only one laughing. The rest of the group chuckled at Mason, who only had eyes for Grace. Eugene held his breath while he watched her, the wonder in her eyes like starlight, and suddenly the whole world felt soft. Like at the sight of Mason and Grace, everything was melting.

It was certainly melting him.

It took a real effort to tear themselves away from their family, but Rosita promised that they'd all be waiting right outside, that they weren't going anywhere. Still, Mason and Daryl looked dubious. In the end it was Eugene who had to lead them away, taking their hands in his before following Rosita to the greeting room.

"Why can't they come with us?" Mason asked. "Are they not allowed?"

"They are," Rosita said, motioning them through a door into a theater. "We just figured...it's probably best if you meet Ezekiel on your own."

"Why would-"

But Mason cut off, halting abruptly- not at the sight of the man seated on the stage, nor the man standing next to him, but at the tiger crouched on his other side.

 _The._

 _Tiger._

 _This_ is _a dream_ , Eugene thought, cutting his nails deep into his palms.

But he didn't wake.

The three of them were so startled by the sight before them that they barely noticed Rosita slipping out to give them privacy. The seated man- whose dreadlocks were tinged with silver but whose eyes were lively with youth- held his arms out wide, like he meant to embrace them all from across the room.

"Welcome, friends," he said, and his voice was something from a different age.

It was also a lie, Eugene realized with the quick certainty of one who had lied quite a bit himself. Not the words, not the sincerity of them. But the voice. That was fiction.

The sincere, insincere man nodded to Mason. "Fair maiden." Then he nodded to Eugene and Daryl in turn. "Weary knights. Indeed it appears you three have endured many tribulations. But all of them have led you here, to my beautiful realm, and for that I am jubilant. You are family to Rosita and Sasha, to Carol and Morgan and Maggie, and therefore you are cherished in this- my home. My Kingdom."

None of them spoke. They just stared, floored by all of it. But the man continued, apparently used to this reaction.

"I am King Ezekiel," he said. "This is my faithful steward, Jerry."

He motioned to the man standing on his right, who waved at them with a cheerful grin and who also- Eugene only noticed now, after everything else- wielded a big fucking axe.

A heavy-handled, double-headed battle axe.

His head spun.

 _What the fuck era are we in again?_

"And this-" Ezekiel motioned to the tiger- "This is Shiva."

"She's beautiful," Mason said breathlessly, taking an unconscious step forward.

Immediately Daryl and Eugene grabbed her. She threw them both an irritated look.

Ezekiel held up an appeasing hand. "Relax, friends, I can assure you we mean you no ill will. And Shiva has promised to be on her best behavior. Come closer if you wish."

Mason yanked out of their grip, her eyes filling with starry wonder as she approached the stage. Eugene and Daryl stuck close to her, alert for any signs of an ambush or possible tiger mauling. Shiva appraised them all with quiet, regal interest, ears flicking, nostrils flaring as she took in their unfamiliar scent. There was a chain tied around her neck, a chain that Ezekiel held, but Eugene had no doubt at all that she could rip it right out his hands. She could rip his arm right off if she wanted to.

He was half-expecting Mason to crawl right up on stage and plant herself right at the paws of the queenly beast, but to his relief she stopped a few feet away. He couldn't help noticing, however, that her eyes kept flickering to the tiger, wide with awe.

Ezekiel smiled, running a hand absently through Shiva's ruff. "She is beautiful, isn't she?"

"I love her," Mason blurted, and Eugene's lips twitched in spite of his tension.

Something in Ezekiel's smile became more genuine, or at least less theatrical. Jerry outright grinned at Mason as though she were a bit of sunshine spilling in through an open window.

"As do I, sweet Mason," Ezekiel said. "Now it is not my wish to impede your reunion for long. I understand that you and your family have quite a bit of catching up to do. But it is custom that I offer residency here in person- you three are welcome in my Kingdom for as long as you like, to enjoy the fruits of our grandeur with the rest of us. That is, so long as you contribute. That is our most paramount decree here. Drink from the well, replenish the well."

"Ha. _Well_ said," Jerry interjected.

Ezekiel threw him a look, full of the kind of long-suffering exasperation of people who had been friends for a long time. And had heard each other's jokes more often than they'd like.

But of course, _of course_ , Mason snorted with laughter. " _Well_ played," she replied.

Jerry pointed at her. "Yes! Thank you!"

At his side, Eugene heard Daryl groan under his breath. Eugene was only barely able to keep from laughing himself.

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow and said wryly, "I see you and Jerry are going to be fast friends."

Mason blushed a little. "I'm sorry, your...your Majesty?"

"You may call me that if you wish."

"I'm sorry, but I just really fucking love puns."

" _Finally_ ," Jerry said.

"Oh, do not apologize to me, sweet Mason, for long is the time that I have been subjected to such...humor," Ezekiel said. "Now, before I take up any more of your time, please accept this gift."

The words were obviously a signal, as Jerry delicately set down his axe and grabbed a basket heaping with fruits, which he carried to Mason.

He offered it to her and said, "It's fruit time."

" _Sweet_ ," she replied with a wink, and they giggled like children before he returned to his post.

"Yes, it is indeed sweet," Ezekiel said, though the _dear god, what fresh hell have I unleashed_ was clear on his face. "Apples, nectarines, pomegranates, all of them grown right here in the Kingdom."

Mason bowed her head. "Thank you, your Majesty, this is...amazing. I mean, all of it. But I can't...we couldn't accept this. Not now, at least. There are people waiting on us, and we couldn't stay here without talking to them first. So-"

She moved to set the fruit back on the stage, but Ezekiel waved her away.

"It is a gift, sweet Mason. Take it back to your people, I assure you, we have plenty. And in any case I can assume that you three will be returning here to reconvene with your family."

Mason glanced at Eugene and Daryl, but she didn't have to. The _yes_ hummed between them.

"We will, if that's alright," she said. "We can pay you back then."

"Do not trouble your head too much. I only ask that my people benefit as much from your presence here as you do from theirs."

"Fair enough."

Ezekiel cocked his head, scrutinizing her with a new expression. "Are you the leader of your people, Mason?"

Mason started. "E-excuse me?"

"Rosita has offered bits and pieces of information regarding the Alexandrians should we ever come across them in our travels, but I seem to remember her stating that the role of leadership lay in a man named Rick Grimes."

She tried to hide it, but Eugene noticed the subtle feathering in her jaw, the way her eyes shadowed just slightly with pain.

"Okay. So why would you ask if _I'm_ the leader?"

Ezekiel leaned forward, his eye glinting. "Forgive me for being shrewd, my lady, but you have that quality about you. A king can always tell when he is in the presence of other royalty."

Her cheeks flushed bright red. "Rosita was right. Rick is the leader of Alexandria. But we're not with them, we're with...we're with another group right now. And I guess..."

She floundered, glancing back at Eugene and Daryl for help. Her eyes were wide with desperation and uncertainty, but there was not a doubt in Eugene's mind. The Misfits may have found a leading light in himself as well, but...

Mason was Queen of the Misfits.

Eugene and Daryl nodded encouragingly, to which she only looked shocked, and he had to stifle a snort of exasperation.

Only Mason would become the leader of a group without realizing it.

"I guess I'm _their_ leader," Mason finished, turning back to Ezekiel, who did not look surprised in the slightest. Instead he looked amused and...understanding. As though he'd been in her shoes before.

"Then: well met, Lady Mason, Luminary of the..." He paused, waiting for Mason to finish.

She only hesitated a moment before answering. "The Misfits."

Both Ezekiel and Jerry appeared delighted by this.

"You'll be happy to know, Mason, that we prize misfits. Those that deny the beaten path in favor of the virtuous one, in spite of its wends and pitfalls. That is true nobility. It is a sad truth that we need more of that these days. Your people will be welcome here, too, should they desire to stay."

"Thank you," Mason said, and Eugene knew that if she hadn't liked the King already, she would have liked him for saying that. All someone had to do to win her over was offer friendship to her Misfits.

"Now go," Ezekiel said kindly. "Rejoin your family. Give my regards to your Misfits and know that we would be honored to welcome you back if that is what you choose."

"Thank you," she repeated, nodding to both of them before turning to lead the way out.

"Bye, guys!" Jerry called after them, waving.

Mason grinned and waved back. Eugene smirked.

Fast friends indeed.

~m~

They stayed long enough to tell their story to the others. All of it, not a piece left out.

Eugene and Mason took turns narrating, relaying their own experiences among the Saviors, and all the little sacrifices they'd made to move like ghosts among them.

Their family's horror weighed down the air, like the electric heaviness just before the breaking of a storm. Negan cutting off Mason's ear. Coercing her to become his wife. Using Eugene as bait for walkers. Forcing him to kill Spencer. These were some of the confessions he was almost certain would trigger that building storm to erupt. Their fury, their grief and vengeance...it reached fever pitch in these moments.

But their audience remained silent the whole time, breathless for the next part of the story. Their anguish eased some when they heard of the Misfits, of all the destruction they'd been wreaking upon the Saviors. Eugene couldn't wait for both parties to officially meet.

"...and then, of course, that's when we found Rosita," Mason said. "Or I guess, she found us."

"It wasn't hard with all the racket you were making," Rosita teased, though her expression remained tight from all they'd revealed.

"And actually-" Mason glanced toward the window, where the light was deepening to a rich gold with the setting sun. "We should probably be heading back. The Misfits will be wondering where we are."

Carol frowned. "But you're coming back." It wasn't a question.

"Of course," Eugene replied. "Likely accompanied by the new additions to our family."

"We'll try to be back tomorrow," Mason said, smiling at each of them. "As early as we can."

It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. But Eugene couldn't help being blindsided all over again by the look on her face. By every inch of her, in fact.

She was so breathtakingly happy. She was so, so beautiful.

They all said their goodbyes, promising fervently and often that they would see each other again very soon. Mason smiled the whole time, hugging each of them, assuaging their reluctance to let them go with cheer and jokes.

But the moment she, Eugene and Daryl stepped outside and the gate closed behind them, she dissolved into tears.

He was expecting it. He'd seen it climbing up her spine and into her skull the moment they'd made to leave. So his reaction was immediate, sweeping her into his arms and holding her against his chest.

"We will be back tomorrow, May," he murmured into her hair.

"I know," she sniffled. "I'm sorry. It's just been...a lot. A lot for one day."

Yes, it had. So many different emotions all at once. He felt exhausted himself; one look at Daryl and he knew he felt the same.

"Let's get home," Eugene said after a moment. "The others will be worried."

So they journeyed back the way they had come in companionable silence, passing fruits to each other from the gift basket as the sun went down.

 **Mason**

As they'd expected, the Misfits were near frantic with worry. She, Daryl and Eugene came upon them a few miles out from the mountain, searching through the dark woods for any sign of where'd they'd gone.

It was Renee who found them first, blinding them with her flashlight.

"Jesus Christ," she hissed, whistling sharply to hail the other Misfits. Then she turned on Mason, Daryl and Eugene with a frightening expression.

" _Where the hell have you three idiots been_?" she snarled. "We've been going out of our fucking _minds_. We thought you were captured, we thought you were _dead_."

"Your confidence in us is overwhelming," Eugene dared to say, but he reeled back a step as Renee rounded on him, jabbing a finger into his chest.

" _You_ shut the fuck up, you sarcastic jackass. You don't say another word unless it's to explain where the hell you've been and why you didn't think to tell us you'd be gone all goddamn day."

The other Misfits were arriving from all different directions, breathless with relief.

"Oh, thank fucking god," Tanner sighed.

"Where were you guys?" Dave demanded, chewing frantically on one of his nails.

Gently Mason reached out to guide the hand away from his mouth. "We're sorry, but...we ran into some old friends."

The implication in her tone did not go unnoticed by the Misfits. All of them went very still, eyes widening.

"Old friends?" Charlie said. "As in _the_ old friends?"

"Just some of them," Mason clarified. "The ones who weren't there when Negan took Alexandria."

"Holy shit," Ashlee whispered.

"Well, that's great, right?" Dray said. "I mean, they're alright and everything?"

"They are," Mason said softly. "And it _is_ great. And we thought tomorrow...we could take ya'll to meet them."

There was silence for a moment. Then Dave spoke up, tentative.

"Really?"

It was Daryl who answered, to everyone's astonishment.

"Of course really," he growled, glaring at the ground as if he couldn't quite look at any of them. "The fuck else are we gonna do, leave ya'll behind?"

Mason shared a smile with Eugene before nodding in Daryl's direction.

"You heard the man."

~m~

The Misfits- even Tanner- were very obviously nervous, and though Mason felt for them she also found it incredibly adorable. She was just so damn _excited_ to finally introduce her new family to her old, she practically bounced as she led them through the gates into the Kingdom.

Sasha, Rosita, Carol and Morgan were waiting for them as promised. Maggie, Sasha explained, was still in her room, catching up on some sleep. Apparently Grace was a testy little beast at night.

Mason and Eugene, ever the protective parents, tried to make the introductions as painless as possible for their Misfits, who hadn't been around so many people since their own had been slaughtered.

But her old family was incredibly kind to them and quick to make them feel welcome- even Carol, though when they weren't looking she still scrutinized them with the same eagle eyed intensity that Mason remembered.

As Daryl had predicted, Charlie instantly fell in with Carol, while Ashlee and Dray were drawn to Morgan's steadying presence. Dave's anxious charm won them all over, just as it had Mason and Eugene. Sasha gravitated naturally to Tanner, but the sorrow in her eyes when she looked at him was unmistakable. Mason played with the pendant on her neck and might have tried to distract her, but she couldn't help finding herself distracted by Rosita and the way she was interacting with Renee.

She seemed... _nervous_. Laughing in that fluttery way she got when she didn't know what to say. Mason remembered her getting that way the night they'd laid in bed together, drunk as shit and confessing to childhood embarrassments. She tried to catch Eugene's eye, but he was already watching them, too. Smirking. She frowned. So _he_ knew what was going on.

After the initial introduction, Rosita invited them all to lunch- family only. Mason was grateful, not just because she hadn't properly eaten since the fruit yesterday- which had actually been fucking delicious- but because she knew it was easier for the Misfits if they took the whole people thing slowly.

As Rosita led them in the direction of the house where she and the others were staying, Mason fell back to elbow Eugene.

"Did you see Rosita with Renee?" she said in a quiet aside, though she knew he had. "What the hell was that about?"

Eugene's lips twitched, wearing that same knowing expression from before. But instead of answering he just took her hand, clearly fighting a smile, and said, "C'mon, or we'll get left behind."

Infuriating ass hat.

 **Eugene**

Rosita sighed and said, without looking up, "Do not say what I think you're going to say."

Eugene smiled from where he leaned against her door frame. "And what is it you think I'm going to say, Miss Espinoza?"

Mason was taking the Misfits to meet Ezekiel, so he'd decided to pay Rosita a visit. See if she remembered how to function like a dignified human being when Renee wasn't around.

"Don't try and trap me, either. I know how you play your word games."

He shrugged. "Alright. I won't say it, and I will leave you un-trapped."

"Thank you."

Only then did she look up from the dresser where she was sorting through clothes, though to him it just looked like busy work.

"It's really good to have you back," she said.

"Good to be back."

"You seem...better. Than the last time I saw you."

He nodded contemplatively. "I am. I have Mason back, and Daryl, and we are fully engaged in our sabotage of the Saviors. Yes, things have gotten better."

He didn't mention that sometimes, even now, he would wake in a cold sweat. He didn't mention that only Mason, holding him and singing softly in his ear, could convince him that the sweat wasn't blood. That he hadn't killed Spencer all over again. That he wasn't still in the Saviors' compound, snared by that damn Lie.

He kept all of this off of his face, so that Rosita's only response was to nod.

"I'm glad," she said, and paused a moment before continuing. "Okay, so...when I was telling you guys about Leslie? I may have left out a little bit of the story."

Eugene blinked. "Alright."

"It's not really pertinent or anything, I just...I was ashamed to admit it. Plus Mason and Daryl don't know about...you know, _me_ , and I didn't feel like explaining it all right then."

He caught on immediately.

"Oh."

She huffed a dark laugh. "Yeah. _Oh_."

"That's how she manipulated you. She seduced you."

"That's how. Pretty stupid, right?"

"No." He frowned. "The best of people will fall victim to the best of liars. You should know that by now, after D.C."

She smiled humorlessly. "You're not making me feel any better."

"My apologies. Would you prefer I lie shamelessly instead?"

"Give it a shot."

"Rosita, you're a fucking idiot. You having a brain is about as pointless as a peephole in a window."

This time when Rosita laughed, it was genuine. "Thanks."

"Anytime, sister."

When her laughter died away, however, she heaved another sigh.

"Eugene, I haven't told Ezekiel yet about the whole Reaper, Chemist thing yet. I wanted to wait until I'd heard your story from start to finish, because while he may approve of you fucking with the system, he might be wary about letting you around his people, and I wanted to have all the facts."

"Why should he be wary of us?"

"Not you. Not exactly. Wary of how you might influence the Kingdom. Eugene, most of them don't know about Negan. About the Saviors."

He stared for a moment.

"Um. Pardon me, Miss Espinoza, but what the actual fuck?"

Rosita nodded. "He made all of us swear not to mention it to any of them. He made Jesus swear, too. He thinks his people would want to fight if they knew."

"That's a good thing," Eugene growled. "They _should_ want to fight."

He and Mason had already discussed it, last night after returning home. They'd talked late into the night, and finally come to a tentative agreement, though he knew Mason was still not terribly happy about it.

They would ask the Kingdom to fight. They would find a way to do it on their own if they had to, but to have help? To have a whole community behind them? They'd be stupid not to ask.

Rosita barked a bitter laugh. "You're preaching to the choir here. The whole reason we haven't said anything to anyone yet is because of how things turned out at the Hilltop. We've been waiting for-"

"How did things turn out at the Hilltop?"

Rosita's eyes flashed with rage. "When they got there, Maggie and Sasha tried to rally them. Get them to fight back against the Saviors. They knew Alexandria would need help, and there were some at the Hilltop that wanted to try. Jesus was one of them. But Gregory, that cowardly _puta_ , he wouldn't let them. He put a stop to it before it could get out of hand, threatened Maggie's and Sasha's lives if they didn't comply. Long story short, he forced them to leave and they came here."

His fists clenched and unclenched while he worked to get his anger under control. He breathed out through his nose and then said, "You should tell Ezekiel. About us. If it were me I would want to know, and we'll deal with whatever comes after. He seems like a reasonable man. I think we could persuade him to hear us out."

"Then I'll tell him today. But you should warn Mason and Daryl first, just in case."

"I will."

He paused as he turned to leave.

"Rosita, I'm sorry about Leslie," he said. "You didn't deserve that to happen to you."

"Thanks."

"But I will tell you right now- if you shut people out just because of what that bitch did, I will riot, and don't think I won't. A Texas man always keeps his word, you can guarantee. You deserve someone good, Rosita. You deserve the world."

Her eyes welled with tears she never let fall. "Thank you," she said again, in a voice much smaller than before.

"Don't thank me for speaking the truth. Also, just so you're aware, I happen to have it on good authority that Renee is a very, very good person."

He smirked and fled before she could throw something at him.

 **Mason**

She was proud of her Misfits. The meeting with Ezekiel had left them all dazzled and keen to explore the rest of the Kingdom, which they seemed enamored with. And she had to admit, it was perfect for a group of goofy, dramatic LARPing nerds. They'd seemed comfortable enough that she'd left them to it.

Daryl was visiting Maggie and Grace- she still could not get over how good he was with babies- so Mason wandered the community herself, taking it all in. It really was beautiful, and the people seemed happy. It was a bubble of peace in the hell of the rest of the world, so at odds with reality. But she supposed that was sort of the point.

Eugene had already caught up to her and explained about the disconnect, how most of them didn't know about Negan's shadow and how it loomed perpetually over them. And now her heart roiled between emotions, because the news had enraged her but...hadn't she also understood, in a way? Wasn't there a part of her that wished she'd never told the Misfits about Negan, never involved them in her war? Wasn't there a part of her that wished there was a comforting lie she could tuck them into bed with, grow their gardens with, sweeten their food with?

The Kingdom needed waking up and there wasn't a kiss that could do it, not a Prince Charming to deliver them safely out of their honeyed dreams.

Yes, Mason understood.

She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that it made her jump when Morgan said her name.

She blinked, realizing that she'd made a full circuit around the Kingdom and ended up back at the gardens, where Morgan was crouched in the dirt, tending to a row of what looked like asparagus.

He smiled, raising a concerned eyebrow. "You back on Earth, space cadet?"

"Unfortunately," she replied, sitting down next to him.

"Where'd you go?"

"Saturn. I like to sit on the rings and accost aliens for money. But, you know, maybe they shouldn't drive by in such nice spaceships. Arrogant twats."

Morgan grinned. "I think I like being in your good graces."

"Stand-up comedy. Free admission." She made finger guns at him and he chuckled. "You mind if I help you with this? Ezekiel gave us that fruit basket and I wanna repay him."

"Help? No, no, I'm gonna have you do all the work for me," he replied with a wink.

She smiled. "I think I like you in my good graces, too."

They worked in companionable silence for a while. The day was warm and the soil felt pleasant against her fingertips. But after a while, her mind began to flood with the previous confusion of emotions.

"Morgan," she said. "Can I ask you what...I mean, why did you finally decide, you know, to kill again?"

He paused, hanging his head a bit like he'd expected her to ask this at some point. But she didn't take the question back.

"Carol was...bleeding out right in front of me," he finally said. "She wanted to die, and that man was going to do it. He was going to shoot her, even knowing I was pointing my gun right back at him. I wasn't going to let her die. Least of all for spite. So I shot him. Until my mag was empty, until all I heard when I pulled that trigger was a hollow click and I...didn't know what to feel. At the time."

Mason nodded. Carol had told them the story of how she and Morgan had come to join the Kingdom, but she'd failed to mention that Morgan had killed the man hunting her. She'd merely said that he'd saved her, and that Daniel and Colton had saved them.

"And how do you feel now?" she asked.

Morgan paused again, but not out of reluctance. His face pinched thoughtfully.

"I don't know," he finally said. "All I know is that...there are people that I would do anything for. Anything. But I hope I don't have to."

Yes. After Negan, after the Saviors, she could understand that, too.

Morgan glanced at her then. "You know why I badgered Carol the way I did, when I first came to Alexandria? Because she reminded me of me, back when I was...struggling. I didn't want her to get to that edge, because I've- I've jumped from it, and I free fell for a long time."

Mason shivered, remembering how she'd very nearly made that jump herself. Tanner still had the scars to prove it.

"You know, I've only ever told Eugene about the man who taught me aikido," Morgan said.

She blinked. "Really?"

"Well, him and..." Morgan trailed off, a strange shadow crossing his face as he shook his head. "Yes. When I was teaching him."

"Thank you for that, by the way," she said. "He's really good at it."

"It was my pleasure, Mason. Eugene is a good man."

She grinned. "Yeah, I know."

"I think maybe it's time-"

Morgan broke off, looking up as a figure approached them. Mason was only half-surprised to see Jerry, peering at her with some unreadable expression. Eugene and Daryl stood behind him, looking tense.

"King Ezekiel would like to speak with you three," Jerry said.

Morgan glanced at Mason, as if to ask if she needed back-up, but she just smiled and patted him on the shoulder as she rose to her feet.

"Don't do all my work for me while I'm gone, alright?"

~m~

Ezekiel sat waiting for them in the greeting room, Shiva by his side just like before. This time Mason didn't hesitate; she led Eugene and Daryl right up to the stage, staring at the King with a confidence her pounding heart could not back up.

"Rosita has just been conveying a very interesting story about you three," Ezekiel began. His voice was less jovial than the other times she'd talked to him. She wondered briefly if they'd have to fight their way out, and desperately hoped they wouldn't.

"What story would that be?" Mason asked, but of course she knew.

Slowly, Ezekiel rose from his chair, Shiva's chain clinking with the movement. Eugene and Daryl tensed on either side of Mason but didn't draw their weapons. Not yet.

Then, to Mason's utter amazement, Ezekiel knelt before her, bowing his head. At his side, Jerry did the same.

"Lady Death," Ezekiel said. "Sir Alchemist. You honor our Kingdom with your presence."

Lady Death.

That was a new one.

Mason stammered for a moment, casting a shocked look at Eugene, who blinked back just as helplessly.

"That's...you don't have to do that," she finally said. "Thank you, but...we're just...people."

"People who oppose Negan's tainted regime," Ezekiel replied, rising to his feet again much to Mason's relief. "And do so with such grace and zeal. We have heard the stories well. News travels fast when humanity fears the Reaper walks among them."

"You guys are our heroes," Jerry said, grinning from ear to ear.

"And what about the rest of your people?" Mason dared to say. "Have _they_ heard these stories?"

Silence met the challenge in her words. Eugene and Daryl bunched closer protectively, wearing identical masks of grim determination. Ready to fight for her.

"Lady Death," Ezekiel finally said. "Sweet Mason. I'm sure you already know the answer to the question you seek."

"Your Majesty, I _understand_ ," she said. "I'm responsible for people, too. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't wish for my own kingdom to give them, walls they'll always be safe behind, _time_. God, just...time with each other. To live for each other. And...there's not a day that goes by...that I don't think of the ones I've already lost."

The voices murmured gently in the back of her head, as if in support. She felt Eugene's and Daryl's eyes on her, on the tears building in her own, but she kept her gaze trained on Ezekiel.

She clenched her fists as she continued. "But the truth is that my people would rather be free than safe. They would _die_ for that freedom. You can never be safe- _truly safe_ \- living under a tyrant's rule. No matter what he promises you, no matter if you think you can keep up with his demands, you cannot trust him. You cannot trust his men. We have lived among them, we know. This is going to end badly if you do nothing. It may not be tomorrow, or a week from tomorrow, or even a year, but he _will_ destroy what you have worked so hard to create. You are not free. And you are not safe."

On her right, Eugene was practically thrumming with pride. His pinky finger wrapped around hers and squeezed encouragingly.

"You speak with passion, sweet Mason," Ezekiel said. "You must believe me when I tell you that I admire you. But this that you are asking of me... My people are not prepared, they have no training-"

"We'll train them," Mason interrupted. "Besides, I haven't asked you anything yet."

"But you will," he replied. "Am I correct?"

"Fight with us," she pleaded. "It's better if you do it now, while we're around to help you, than later, when you're alone."

Jerry glanced at Ezekiel. "She makes a good point."

"I cannot simply dismantle the foundations this Kingdom was built on," he replied wearily. Like he'd had this conversation before.

"You're referring to the lies that it was built on," Eugene said. "Your Majesty, at the risk of sounding like a walking cliche philosophy major, I am a student of the world. I assure you, the wisdom I have acquired on my apocalyptic journey is invaluable, and I have learned it the hard way. You cannot continue to lie to your people. Lies of this magnitude are inherently unsustainable. It _will_ blow up in your face. And regardless, they deserve the truth."

"You make a fine match for her, Sir Alchemist," Ezekiel said. "The fires of your crucible burn as the stars do."

"I speak only the truth, Your Majesty, but I was not always so conscientious. And I was not always a fighter, either, or at least I didn't believe I was. But Mason inspired me to get my shit together. She was the only one who believed in me for a long time. I truly do not know what I did to deserve that honor but I do know that if she puts her faith in someone, she puts her heart there, too. She will not spur you to fight without intending to see you through it, without intending to fight for you as well. If you ally with us, your people will become our people. And we do not abandon our people."

Ezekiel sat quietly for a long time, his face pensive, limned with uncertainty. And Mason felt for him. She knew that uncertainty. She knew it every day.

Finally, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. You have my highest admiration for the good you are doing, but I cannot risk-"

"Those that deny the beaten path in favor of the virtuous one," Mason interrupted. "You said that was true nobility. You said you favored the misfits. Well, we're here. We are the dark horse on the track and it's the eleventh hour. Time to place your bets."

"Mason-"

Before Ezekiel could continue, the theater doors burst open. Rosita and Jesus rushed in, their eyes wide with alarm.

"They're here," Jesus said.

"Who?" Daryl growled.

"The Saviors. The killed the gate guards and just marched on in."

She'd forgotten. Dwight had told them Negan intended to pay a visit to the Kingdom. In the rush of everything else, she'd forgotten.

Mason's veins flooded with adrenaline, the fire in her cage roaring to life, but Ezekiel called her name sharply.

"No," he said. "They think you're dead. For the sake of your cause, you must remain clandestine."

"Is Negan with them?" Eugene demanded.

"No," Jesus replied.

Mason gritted her teeth. Coward.

She, Eugene and Daryl watched the rest of them hurry outside- Ezekiel took Shiva with him, and she wondered if he might let her eat one of the Saviors.

Once they were gone, Daryl raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "Ya'll doin' this?"

Eugene reached into his jacket, pulling out the motorcycle scarves and handing one to Mason.

"Wouldn't be a party if we didn't."

~m~

The entire Kingdom was gathered at the front gate to see what the commotion was about. Mason didn't recognize any of the Saviors except one- Fat Joey, who stood off to the side, leering at women.

Tanner found her and Eugene peering out from the space between two buildings.

"Sixteen Saviors at the gate," he said, handing them their cloaks. They donned their outfits quickly as he continued. "Ashlee and Renee are on surveillance. So far there's been no movement in the woods. Dray's on a rooftop with his bow, but the rest of us will ghost among the crowd in case you need back-up."

"You're the best," Mason said and kissed his cheek before she and Eugene disappeared.

They skirted the edge of the crowd, flitting from building to tree to building, whatever shelter they could find. She was relieved not to see Maggie, Sasha or Rosita anywhere among the assembly, but she did spot Morgan and Carol.

They hid themselves behind the school bus where Sasha, Morgan and Carol had waited yesterday. No one had spotted them yet. Ezekiel and Jerry stood at the head of their people, flanked by Shiva, who was glaring at the Saviors as though she would have loved to take a bite out of them. The Saviors themselves were wise enough to appear cowed by her presence but they still held their ground.

 _Not for long, bitches._

Mason drew the gun from her belt while Eugene readied a bomb arrow- no matter where he went, he always carried the materials to make at least one.

"We pare down the men closest to our people," he said.

"Six for me, then I'm headed for the end zone," she replied and flashed him a grin. "Sharp buttons and hella confidence."

Mason shot first, felling two men before Eugene loosed his arrow and the man who'd been talking to Ezekiel went up in flames. People started screaming. The burning man fell to the ground, dragging two others with him. Four more men fell by Mason's gun before she started running, pulling the machete from her belt.

Three of the Saviors bolted for the gate when they saw her, but she was quicker.

Blood sparkled in the air as she whirled from one to the next. They were too scared to try to fight back, but a few of the other Saviors raised their weapons.

However between Dray and Eugene- who marched out from behind the school bus armed with Daryl's crossbow- they never landed a blow.

By the time he flanked her, only four trembling Saviors- Fat Joey among them- remained. They stood caught between Mason and Eugene, who barred the way to the gate, and a very large, very sharp-toothed tiger.

Pitching her voice into a low growl, Mason said, "You are trespassing on my territory."

Fat Joey's eyes widened. "Y-you're with the Kingdom?"

Alive with heat and bloodlust, Mason strode toward him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Is that what I said? I'm not with these fucking people."

She knocked his legs from under him, then stood with her machete pressed to his spine as she glared at the other Saviors.

"This is the land of the dead. I'm claiming it for myself. So you can tell whoever runs your shit show that if you try to take it from me, dead is how you'll end up. I'm more than happy to make a graveyard out of all of you. Do we understand or no?"

The men trembled, moving their heads in what might have been assent. Her eyes narrowed.

"Tell me you understand."

"We understand," Fat Joey pleaded.

"We understand," the other men mumbled.

Mason removed her machete from Fat Joey's back; as he scrambled to his feet, she spotted blood on the back of his shirt. "Now get the fuck off my land before I change my mind about reaping you."

The men backed toward the gate, their eyes flickering back and forth from Mason to Eugene.

When Shiva began prowling forward, they took off running.

Once they were gone, Mason deflated. The fire rushed back into its cage, leaving her feeling empty and weak. Eugene flashed her a signal- _quality assurance_ \- and strode toward the gate to make sure the Saviors had fled. Mason turned to face the crowd, but paused when she realized that Shiva loomed beside her, head cocked and nostrils flaring.

Smiling beneath the scarf, Mason reached out- slowly, tentatively- until her fingers brushed rough fur.

"She will pledge her undying loyalty for a good scratch behind the ears," Ezekiel murmured, coming up to stand by her side.

Sure enough, the moment Mason followed his advice, Shiva leaned in to the touch, letting out a rumble that might have been the big cat equivalent of a purr. Mason grinned.

"Her and I have that in common," she said, and then glanced at Ezekiel.

The anguish in his eyes was like a punch to her gut, but...

He was waiting on her. Her next move.

She sighed. "The Saviors are coming here now. They are disregarding the fact that you wanted to keep them separate from your people. They are _killing_ your guards. You cannot sit idle anymore."

She couldn't stand the sight of his tears, which he quickly blinked away.

"Trust us, please," she whispered. "I refuse, I _fucking refuse_ to let what happened to my people happen to anyone else."

Ezekiel glanced at the bodies staining the ground, at the two guards, sprawled and lifeless, by the gate.

Then he looked at her. And she couldn't read all the emotions swimming in his eyes, but they speared her all the same.

"You put your heart where you think it should go, Reaper," he said. "And I will follow you."

Giving her the choice. The magnitude of this weighed her down immediately, but she refused to let it crush her. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the Kingdom, who were too shocked to move.

"Sorry about all that, folks," she said.

"Who the hell are you?" a man demanded. He was standing protectively in front of two women, though he had no weapon. His bravery encouraged her.

Mason set her machete down. Then she lowered her hood and removed the scarf from her face.

She was a bit surprised by how many of the Kingdom recognized her; she didn't think she'd been here long enough to make an impression, but then again she supposed it was easier to remember a face covered in scars and missing an ear.

"You're here to take our home?" an old woman asked tremulously.

"No, no," Mason said gently. "I'm sorry, I had to say that, to make sure they wouldn't come back here."

Eugene stepped up to her side then, removing his own disguise, and another wave of shock rippled through the crowd.

"We are friends of the Kingdom, I assure you," he said.

"It is true," Ezekiel said. "The Chemist and the Reaper are-"

"The Reaper?"

The crowd began to murmur uneasily and Mason couldn't help flinching away from them.

But Eugene laced his fingers through hers, and out of the crowd Morgan and Carol and the Misfits gathered around them protectively.

"What the hell is going on?"

"You knew these people?"

"We deserve an explanation!"

"Yes," Ezekiel said, holding up his hands, and the peace and authority in his voice was impressive. But it didn't fool Mason. She recognized the weariness in his eyes and her heart ached for him. "You deserve an explanation. But it is a long story."

 **Eugene**

It was a long, arduous afternoon that became a long, arduous night. Ezekiel told his story, Rosita told hers- minus the part about sleeping with Leslie, Maggie and Sasha told theirs, Mason and Eugene told theirs.

And the crowd was _furious._

And Eugene couldn't blame them.

So many things they'd been kept in the dark about. So many things they hadn't been allowed knowledge of, an opinion on.

But, fuck, did they have opinions on it now.

After telling her story, Maggie had to take Grace back inside because the shouting was making her cry. The tension crackled in the air like building lightning, constantly toeing the edge of bursting into a full-blown storm. The Misfits patrolled through the crowd, calming people when they could, monitoring the crowd in case things started getting out of hand. Eugene couldn't help swelling with pride at that.

But through it all, in the center of this storm, Ezekiel. Absorbing every verbal blow with grace, standing tall against the anger surrounding him. And no matter how much of his title as "King" was fiction, Eugene had no doubt in that moment that he was true royalty.

"My friends," he said above the uproar. "Your fury is justified. I have-"

"You're damn right it's justified!" a woman snarled. "You've been lying to us this whole time. You're not fit to lead!"

"Hey!"

Mason stood up, stealing through the crowd to stand at Ezekiel's side. Some of the people recoiled from her, clearly remembering her lethal display earlier. Eugene scrutinized each watching face; he doubted very much that anyone wanted to fuck with her, but he wasn't going to take the chance.

Mason eyed her audience, whose clamoring had quieted to a dull muttering at her taking center stage. Eugene could tell she was nervous but he didn't think anyone else could.

"I understand that this is...a lot. _A lot_ of shit to take in," she said. "And I get that you're angry, I really, really do. But your King didn't lie to you out of malice or personal interest, he lied to try and give you a life that any truly good leader would strive to give his people. That any good parent would want for their children. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but you have to realize that leading people? Being responsible for them? It's not black and white, and you're a fool if you think so. It is a fucking mess of gray _shit_ that you have to sort through by yourself and god forbid you ever let anyone see you struggle with it because leaders don't struggle, right?

" _My_ leader, the man in charge of Alexandria- Rick Grimes." She paused, closing her eyes just briefly to stifle the pain. "He is one of the best people I've ever had the honor of knowing, but he is far, _far_ from perfect. Our group became stronger once we all realized this. You people have it good here, I don't think you realize... This place is a fucking miracle. You take it for granted. And you have it, you have all of this, because of _this man_. Your King only wants the best for you, and you are _lucky_ to have him."

"Mason is correct," Eugene said. "We have met many a malevolent people- I mean, I'm talking some real bad news bears. Not just Negan. People who wanted to murder us for the clothes on our backs. People who wanted to _eat us_ , and I'm not even exaggerating. People who were not people anymore, but wolves, maddened by bloodlust. So we know a good man when we meet him. Your King is a good man, no ifs, ands or buts about it."

"Ya'll need to understand that sometimes good men lie," Daryl spoke up, to the shock of those who knew him best; Eugene exchanged a stunned glance with Mason as Daryl went on. "I ain't ever claimed to be an expert on much, but I..."

He trailed off for a moment, shaking a bit.

But then his gaze found Eugene's, and he steadied.

"I do know that you can judge a man by how he makes up for things he's done," he said. "Shit he regrets. I've seen a man I ain't want anythin' to do with become a man I admire. I've seen him become my brother. My best friend."

Eugene blinked. Daryl smiled a little.

"But what do I know? I ain't no scientist or anything."

The crowd was looking about uncertainly now, and in the relative calm, Ezekiel glanced at Mason, Daryl and Eugene in turn.

"May we have a moment to discuss this among ourselves?" he murmured.

Mason nodded. "Of course."

Quietly, the three of them picked their way out of the crowd and the Misfits followed. As they walked, back to the house where Rosita had said they could stay, Eugene turned to Daryl.

"Um. Did you...did you mean _me_ back there?" he stammered shyly.

Daryl snorted. "You're the smartest man I ever met, but you're a fucking idiot," he said and shoved him playfully. "'Course I meant you, you big dildo."

Mason groaned. "Oh, good lord, it begins..."

"The hell you yammerin' about?"

"Just that ever since you lost your hand, I've been waiting for the transformation."

Daryl and Eugene looked at each other, mystified, before Mason turned around, waggled her eyebrows and intoned spookily, "Into Merle."

Daryl rolled his eyes and kicked her lightly. "Keep walkin', smartass."

~m~

It took the Kingdom all night to talk everything out. Eugene slept restlessly, as did Mason; after several failed attempts they gave up and faced each other on the bed, close enough that their noses touched, and sang softly to each other until the morning.

The sun was just climbing in the east when there came a knock at the door. Eugene got up to answer it, stepping carefully over Daryl, who still insisted on sleeping on the floor.

He wasn't surprised to see Ezekiel, but he was rather alarmed by his appearance- face drawn, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. The air of genteel fiction was gone from him, and in its absence he was just a man. Tired like the rest of them.

"My Kingdom has decided they want to fight," he said without preamble. There was no blame in his voice, but exhaustion hung on his every word.

Eugene swallowed hard. Maybe the Kingdom had needed to wake up, but he and Mason had still brought the fight to their doorstep.

It never got any easier, he realized. Asking people to die for you.

 _I'm not asking them to die for me,_ he thought. _I'm not asking them to die at all. We just have to fight._

Ezekiel sighed. "May I come in?"

 **Mason**

It was a trial run. That was how Eugene put it, at least. They would train the Kingdom with the help of the Misfits, see if it was possible to get them to a place where they _could_ fight, and go from there. Step by step.

And...she didn't know how to feel about any of it.

Since deciding to ask the Kingdom for help, she'd avoided thinking about it too deeply. She knew that it was partly because everything had shifted so suddenly. One moment it had just been the three of them out in the woods, entrenched in the middle of their plan to take down the Saviors, and in the next they were catapulted into another fucking _world_. And now everything was moving very, very quickly and sometimes she had to remind herself to breathe.

Eugene, of course, knew exactly what to say when she confessed this to him.

"If it were Alexandria, we would want someone to do the same for us. We would want someone to get us to fight."

And, as always, he was right.

So it was that she found herself standing in front of a crowd of men and women whose names she didn't even know, wondering how the fuck she was going to go about this. She'd never trained so many all at once.

Next to her, Eugene was teaching his own students. Their classes were close enough that she could just hear what he was saying.

"For those of you who have never fired a gun, try not to feel too intimidated. So long as you remember to be safe about it, you will likely fair much better than me my first time. I am an accomplished marksman now, but the first time I shot a shotgun? It _shot_ right out of my hands."

The crowd laughed. Mason pursed her lips to keep from giggling. Bolstered by Eugene's confidence- and, goddammit, the pun, which she knew he'd thrown in just for her benefit- she turned back to her own students.

"Alrighty, folks," she said, and offered them a grin. "Today you're gonna learn how to kick ass."


	13. Put Your Money on Me

Hey, guys, excited to be back with a new chapter. This one was actually supposed to be part of the last one, but then it just would have been ridiculously long so I decided to split them. The chapter song is "Put Your Money on Me" by Arcade Fire, which is off their new album, and it's pretty damn great. As always, super huge shout out to you guys, I'm so thankful for your reviews and support! Until next chapter, let me know what you think!

13\. Put Your Money on Me

 **Mason**

The sun hadn't quite risen yet, but feathers of pale pink shone in the east. Mason sat next to Morgan on a hill with a winding view of the woods below, sipping jasmine tea. They'd been silent for a while, but the silence was completely comfortable; it was part of why she liked spending these moments with him. The quiet never made him feel awkward.

Any other morning, Dray and Ashlee might have joined them; usually they all meditated together before their morning tea. But Dray was off on a scouting mission with Charlie, and Ashlee was making bullets with Dave and Eugene. The Kingdom citizens tried not to use up too much of their ammo, but with arms training it was inevitable.

"He was a cheese maker," Morgan said.

Mason startled. "The fuck- _w_ _ho_ was a cheese maker?"

"The man who taught me aikido. His name was Eastman and his goat's name was Tabitha and it took him forever to perfect that goddamn cheese."

Mason's lips twitched. "How did you meet him?"

"I was trying to kill him- and Tabitha. And he knocked me out. Woke up in a cell in his house."

"I'm sorry, a _cell_?"

"It was built for someone else," Morgan explained quietly. "Someone he intended to kill. But he didn't kill me. Let me live, even though I wasn't a very good person at the time. And he brought me back. Little by little. He was a believer."

"A believer in what?"

"In the good in people. In their potential for redemption. Everything in this life gets a return and everything in this life is about people, and that's what kept me going all that time I was searching for Rick. I wanted to be a believer, too, and I still am...I think. But it's different now."

"He sounds like a good man."

"He was." Morgan smiled a little. "And I think he would have really liked you."

Mason looked down into her mug, which was nearly empty. She was silent for a moment, choosing her words.

"Everything in this life is about people," she said slowly. "That's why you tried to find Rick? Why you followed him all the way from Atlanta?"

"It is."

"If he went somewhere else...I mean, somewhere _far_...would you follow him then?"

Morgan peered at her curiously. "Rick is my friend, and he is a man worth following. Yes, I think I would."

Mason nodded, frowning. Her mind was a whirl of chaos she couldn't sort out. So much for meditating.

"You gonna tell me the reason for that question?" Morgan asked gently.

But Mason just forced a cheerful smile. "Not at this current moment, no, but maybe when I've figured some shit out. Cards on the table, I am not entirely sure if I'll ever come to a favorable conclusion."

"You talk like Eugene when you're stressed."

She sighed. "Yeah, I am well aware of that."

~m~

"Okay, that's better...but you're still putting your weight, like, way in the fuck forward. You're not gonna stay balanced that way. Here, just...don't bounce on your toes so much. Feet planted, okay?"

The kid- Benjamin- frowned in frustration but nodded, launching back into his training with determination. Mason stayed just long enough to see that he was taking her advice to heart before weaving through the rest of her students.

With the exception of Benjamin and a few others, they were all older than her, and she still hadn't gotten over how uncomfortable this made her. But none of them complained, and none of them seemed to think she was unqualified just because of her youth.

Then again, they'd seen her fight firsthand.

Most of them weren't scared of her anymore, which made things less awkward.

"Of course they aren't," Eugene had said when she'd told him. "It takes little less than a day to realize that you are an absolute and unrelenting dork."

To which she'd promptly pinched him.

But it had been nearly two weeks and the Kingdom was shaping up nicely. She didn't train them quite as ruthlessly as she'd trained the Misfits, but they still went to bed exhausted every night. Classes switched between Mason's combat lessons and Eugene's arms training, although sometimes the Misfits led classes when Mason and Eugene were otherwise occupied.

And Ezekiel monitored nearly every one, including this one. Mason tried not to feel self-conscious; she knew it was interest in his people's progress and not necessarily her teaching skills that he was calling into question.

After a while, Mason clapped her hands. "Alright, I think ya'll have had enough for today, am I right?"

Her students grumbled their fervent agreement and she laughed.

"Go get some lunch then. Really good work, guys, keep it up."

As she watched them all head for the cafeteria, Ezekiel strode over to her.

"You are an excellent mentor, Lady Death," he said. "My people think highly of you."

Mason tried not to wince. She knew things had been hard for him since confessing to his lies. She and her family had done their best to act as a sort of buffer, to casually sway his people into forgiving him, and some of them had. Some of them saw past the deceit to his good intentions, but she knew there were still others who were not as quick to overlook it.

He smiled wryly, as though he could read all this on her face. She schooled her expression into one of bland innocence.

"You joining us for lunch today?" she asked, and knew his answer before he even shook his head.

"Thank you for asking, my lady, but it is time for my daily ramble through the woods," he said.

He'd taken them every day since deciding to fight the Saviors. Mason suspected it was partly to be alone with his thoughts, and partly to patrol for attacks. Which was part of the reason she sent a few of the Misfits out on their own scouting missions at the same time, just in case. They hadn't seen any sign of the Saviors since she'd run them off, but that didn't mean shit.

They hadn't seen anything of Dwight or Sherry either. She tried not to dwell on this.

"Be careful," she said.

He dipped his head. "Of course, sweet Mason."

They parted ways, Mason heading for the theater, where she often gathered with her family to eat. It was still sometimes difficult to be around so many strangers, and she cherished the times when it was just her and her own.

Not everyone was there yet; usually she was the one rolling in late, keeping some her students back a few minutes to help them hone their positioning or technique. But they'd been working so hard, she thought today they could use a break.

Jerry was sitting on the stage with Dave, listening to music that Mason hadn't heard before but which she instantly liked. On the opposite side of the stage, as though she could only take so much of the others' energy, Shiva was sprawled imperiously. Eugene sat next to her, absently stroking behind her ears while he read from one of Ezekiel's many books. Daryl lay on his back on her other side, hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. In the audience seating, Tanner and Ashlee were engaged in a furious game of Monopoly which, to Mason's understanding, had been going on for five days.

"Hey, Mason!" Jerry greeted her cheerfully as she climbed on stage. "I have some more songs you need to listen to."

"You're gonna like this shit, dude," Dave agreed.

She hunkered down next to them to listen. Ezekiel had been right; her and Jerry were tight from day one, and Dave had been quick to befriend him as well. One of their favorite things to do together was introduce each other to new music and dance to cheesy pop songs they already knew.

"Holy shit, what _is_ this?" Mason said as the song went on.

"It's just this random mash-up I found on YouTube before the world went to shit. Isn't it great? I have a whole CD of them that I downloaded."

"Dude, bi-five," Mason said, holding up her hand. Jerry high-fived her with a grin.

His only response when she'd told him she was bisexual was to exclaim that she could make the best puns; bi-five was one of their favorites.

God, they terrorized the others with their puns.

"Thanks for running these songs _bi_ me," she said, to which Jerry and Dave giggled.

Daryl groaned loud enough that Shiva threw him a dirty look. Eugene smirked without looking up from his book.

"Shut up, Dixon!" Mason said. "Don't you take this joy from me."

"Then stop makin' me want to eat a bullet."

"Aw, c'mon, they're not _that_ bad."

"What's not that bad?" Sasha asked as she walked down to the stage, accompanied by Carol, whose turn it was to bring lunch. Tanner and Ashlee hopped up at the sight of food, glaring at each other in a way that suggested their Monopoly game was far from over.

"The puns," Daryl growled and Sasha made a face.

"Oh, good lord..."

"Hey!" Mason protested.

"It's alright, dude. Nobody will ever truly understand us," Jerry said, feigning solemnity.

"Sometimes I think you're my only real pal in this joint."

"I understand your pain."

"Oh, shut the hell up," Daryl snapped. Mason and Jerry laughed.

She got up to help Sasha and Carol distribute the food, saving a raw pig leg for Shiva. The others began trickling in- Maggie and Morgan, covered in dirt from working the garden, and Rosita and Renee following after them, laughing about something. Dray and Charlie were still patrolling the woods with a walkie; Eugene had the other in case they ran into trouble.

She sat with Eugene and Daryl, feeding the pig leg to Shiva, who let out a satisfied growl. The others sat on the stage close by, although many of them weren't comfortable chilling so close to Shiva without the three of them present.

The tiger had taken a liking to them- quicker, apparently, than she did with most. Mason thought that was likely because she and Daryl weren't really scared to be eaten, and Eugene... Well, he had employed a slightly different method.

"What in the hell are you doing?" she'd asked the first time he'd sat cross-legged in front of Shiva and- very slowly, very deliberately- blinked at her.

"Bonding," he'd replied, and blinked again.

After a moment, Shiva had blinked back in the same way and let out a low rumble, allowing Eugene to reach out and scratch behind her ears.

"What was that?" Mason had said, staring in amazement.

"Closing one's eyes is a show of trust in the feline community," he'd explained. "It is the same method I used to befriend all the strays that lived in the alley behind my apartment. Couldn't just leave food out or the raccoons would have at it, so I spent hours in that alley ensuring the intended critters received their meals... And eventually I just ended up a home for wayward cats."

He leaned toward Shiva now, sharing a piece of his sandwich with her, his fingers dwarfed by her massive snout.

Daryl snorted. "That's gonna be one spoiled-ass cat when you're done with her," he said, but he gave her a piece of his sandwich, too.

The Tiger's Three, some in the Kingdom had taken to calling them. Ridiculous.

 _You'd think we were out of some Game of Thrones prophecy or something._

 _Ya'll come out of nowhere claimin' to be a Reaper and a Chemist before makin' friends with a fuckin' tiger, and you don't expect some fancy-ass oracle shit?_ Merle said.

 _Shut up, you backwoods mutant._

"So," Eugene said, glancing around to make sure the others were engaged in their own conversations. Mason and Daryl sat up straighter. "Best theory wins."

"About what?" Daryl said.

"Dwight and Sherry. We've been making trips to the rendezvous point every day for a week and a half now, and no sign."

Mason's gut churned. Daryl's eyes tightened.

"They're alright," he growled.

"They have to be," Mason agreed, though mostly just to get that look off of his face. "If Negan had found out about our alliance, if he'd killed them, he would've let us know somehow. Sent their heads as gifts or something."

 _Like AJ._

She flinched from the memory. Eugene blinked sympathetically, like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"I thought that initially, too," he said. "But...he took Alexandria hostage. He's keeping them as prisoners. I am not saying that's what happened for certain, but it is a possibility we need to consider. And if so...perhaps we should stop visiting the rendezvous point."

Mason frowned. "That would mean Negan knows about the list Dwight gave us."

"He could be meaning to trap us."

But Daryl shook his head. "Nah. If Negan found out about Dwight and Sherry he woulda killed one of 'em in front of the other, given us their head after. To make an example, y'know? He already gave 'em a free pass once. Nah. They're alive. Probably just delayed. You have to think the Saviors are gonna be in chaos after the Reaper claims the Kingdom." He poked Mason in the ribs and she swatted him away.

"So you think we should go ahead with the plan then?" Eugene asked.

"You're askin' me?"

"Um. _Y_ _es_? Why in the hell would we not?"

Daryl shrugged, glancing at his stump like he couldn't help it.

Eugene huffed. "Stop bein' a jackass, we obviously require your input. Now do you think we should go ahead with the plan or not?"

Daryl eyed him for a moment, for all the world like a sullen little brother, before he said, "I vote yes. Hit 'em while they're reelin'. They may be expectin' us after this next strike, but..."

"We'll deal with that when we get to it," Eugene said. "I think you make a fair point, especially considering that you spent nearly four months among the Saviors."

Then he leveled Daryl with an unblinking stare.

"Don't ever think that we would undersell your council, Mr. Dixon, we are not us without you."

Daryl looked down at the remains of his lunch. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "So if we're doin' this thing, you think maybe it'll require new equipment? You know, of the, um, cosmetic variety?"

Eugene's eyes lit up. "Oh! You are absolutely right."

Mason frowned, glancing between them. "What...are you two talking about?"

"Nothing, nothing, just...stand up for a minute, would you?"

Suspiciously she did so, her gaze flickering between Daryl and Eugene, the latter of which was pulling something from his pocket and kneeling...

Kneeling before her.

The breath caught in her throat.

"Mason Reynolds," Eugene said.

"Yes," she whispered. Her heart beat, fast and light, against her rib cage.

"Your wrist is tragically devoid of artful ammo."

"...Huh?"

He held out what looked to be a metal bracelet. She stared at him in bewilderment.

Upon seeing her expression, his eyes gleamed mischievously.

"Oh, did you think...?" He clucked in disappointment. "Miss Reynolds, every time a man gets down on one knee, it does not, in fact, imply proposal. You're so silly."

Mason ground her teeth. "You _asshole_!"

She reached out to smack him on the arm, but he dodged her with a childish giggle. Daryl snorted with laughter, too, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement.

"This idea brought to you in part by Dr. Deceit, in association with the Mighty Squirrel-bane."

"Yeah, fuck you both."

The voices laughed in the back of her head. Abraham's cackle was the loudest.

"I'm sorry, Mason, that was mean," Eugene said, though he didn't look terribly sorry.

She sniffed, fighting back a smile of her own. "No, because I would have done the same thing to you. If I'd thought of it. So what is it that you have for me that _isn't a ring_?"

"Birthday present," he said and held it out again.

"It's not my birthday."

"Late birthday," he amended. "We were too busy training in February to celebrate."

Mason grimaced. "I didn't want you to do anything. That was the point." But she took the little metal thing anyway, which was indeed a bracelet.

Made out of bullets.

No, not made out of them. A carrier for them. A whole circlet of individual vessels to hold cartridges.

"It holds twelve rounds, enough to fill your mag. You can pick them out individually if you desire, or-" Eugene reached out to press a switch on the bracelet's edge, cupping his hand beneath hers to catch the bullets as they slipped from their holsters. "Coeval release switch. For easy magazine reload."

"Holy _shit_ ," Mason said. "This is fucking amazing, you _made_ this?"

Eugene ducked his head shyly. "Yes, ma'am. Took me quite a while, that's part of the reason I couldn't give it to you on your birthday, but...yes. In all honesty, there's still a few kinks I'll need to work out, you can inform me of any difficulties you have with it, but it is safe and workable and I thought...it's the perfect aesthetic. For the Reaper."

Mason grinned. "I love it. Thank you."

She hugged him tight, planting kisses on his neck and ear until he began to squirm.

"Okay, May, you're welcome," he laughed.

"But don't you dare trick me again, Eugene Porter, or so help me..."

"I don't intend on it, Mason Reynolds." He leaned away to look at her, his blue eyes clear and bright. "Because the next time I get down on one knee before you, it is going to be the real thing. So you best prepare yourself."

"Right, I'll believe it when I see it. Oh, wait, no. I won't. Because it's going to be _me_ on one knee and _you_ blubbering like a baby."

"Ya'll are disgusting," Daryl said, rolling his eyes.

"But you love us," Mason teased.

"Yeah. I'm an idiot."

 **Eugene**

To give Maggie a chance to catch up on sleep, Eugene and Mason babysat Grace every few nights. Tonight was one of those times, and like most of those times, Grace woke up around two in the morning wailing her head off.

Eugene clambered out of bed, still hazy with dreams. Mason lifted her head.

"You want me to get her?" she mumbled.

"Go back to sleep, May," he replied. "It's my turn anyway."

In about three seconds she was snoring again. Eugene lifted Grace from her crib and carried her into the living room. He wasn't surprised to ascertain that it wasn't one of the big three- feeding, burping or diaper change. Sometimes she just got lonely at night.

"Alright, darlin'," he murmured. "You wanna go see some stars? Yeah? That always makes me feel better."

He took her outside, cradling her to his chest while she cried. He stroked her head consolingly.

"Aw, c'mon, darlin', I know you like going on night walks, don't you try and pretend. See that constellation there? That's Leo, the lion. A bit like Shiva, except lions don't have stripes. You know, as a kid I thought stars were angels smoking cigarettes. I'm well aware that's a bit ridiculous, so don't you laugh at me. You know what stars actually are? Just giant spheres of hydrogen and helium held together by their own gravity. Pretty cool, if you ask me. Maybe not as cool as angels, but c'est la vie."

Grace quieted while he talked, blinking up at him like she was genuinely trying to decipher what he was saying. He tried not to feel too proud, but he was so much better at dealing with babies than he used to be. He'd had plenty of practice playing peek-a-boo with Little Asskicker, taking her on walks in the garden, teaching her about all the insects she loved catching.

A pang ran through him. He hoped she was alright.

 _You'll see her soon. You'll see them all soon._

Right.

But what would they think of him?

He flinched from the thought. Grace let out a little gurgling whimper and he kissed the top of her head.

"Shh, shh, I'm sorry. You wanna hear a song? I confess I am not a singer like Mason but I will do my best."

He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, actually, but Grace didn't seem to mind. He sang low and quiet, rocking her gently as he roamed the Kingdom.

He was passing by an open window when he heard the sobbing- hushed, like an attempt at being quiet.

He stopped, frowning in concern. It was Sasha's window, and he thought he could guess what the crying was about. Awkwardly he stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, but...

Sasha was like his sister. _Was_ his sister, for all intents and purposes. He couldn't walk away without seeing if she needed him. Continuing to sing to Grace under his breath, he knocked on Sasha's door.

The crying cut off, and he thought he heard a muffled curse before the door opened.

Sasha blinked at him. "Eugene. What's wrong?"

"Gracie Mai won't go back to sleep, I was wondering if you knew any tricks," he lied smoothly.

She stared at him flatly, clearly not buying it. Her eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with shadows.

"You came to me. For tricks on how to put a baby to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am."

She sighed. "Why don't you just come in? I was about to make some tea anyway."

"Much obliged."

He followed her into the kitchen, where she indeed put a kettle of water on the stove, though he doubted she'd had any intention of doing so before. He hummed under his breath to Grace, whose eyes were finally drifting shut. Sasha crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

"She seems to be doing just fine under your supervision," she said.

"Odd. She just was not having any of it before..."

"Eugene. Stop. I know you heard me."

"Heard you what?" he said innocently. "Truly I do not know what you are referring to, Miss Williams."

"Mm hm."

Sasha began rifling through her cupboards, pulling out an assortment of teas, and while she did Eugene cast about for a way to talk to broach the subject. She wasn't one to talk about her emotions; it made her angry, it made her defensive.

 _Guess she'll just have to be angry with me._

"He gave me a lot of grief over Mason," he said. "Over not having the balls to just tell her how I felt."

Sasha wasn't facing him, but from the way her spine stiffened, the way her fingers clenched around the edge of the counter, he could only imagine her expression. Still, he kept going.

"But for all that pestering, he wasn't much better when it came to telling you-"

"We're not doing this." Sasha spun on her heel, lips thin, eyes glinting. "We're not talking about this."

"I think we should-"

" _What do you think you know_?" she hissed. "Eugene, you don't know shit. You've never..."

She trailed off, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

She didn't have to finish that sentence.

He swallowed hard. "I thought I was going to," he said quietly. "I thought she was going to die right there in my arms. She was bleeding out, she was seizing, and there was nothing, _nothing,_ that I could do. I...I have never known such helplessness."

"But Mason survived," Sasha said. "That's the difference. You still have her. I know you think you know everything, but-"

"I don't," he said. "I don't know everything. I don't know shit. But what I _do_ know? Abraham was a dead man walking before he met you. He was a dying fire, just burning himself out. But _you_? I knew him quite well, probably better than most, and I still didn't know all of him before he met you. There was a whole other side of him that he kept hidden because he thought it was dead. But after you he was a different man. Not a corpse trying to carry a flame, but _real_. You gave him that."

Sasha stared at him, tears slipping down to her trembling chin. "Eugene..." she whispered.

"I know that...it doesn't change anything," he went on. "If there is a higher power, he is an utter piece of shit and I won't contest that. But...perhaps it's wrong of me to say this, but I am so happy that you made him happy. It is the only thing that gets me through missing him. And I miss him so damn much."

She was silent for a moment, shuddering with sobs she fought to suppress. But then she touched his face and said, "Thank you."

"No sister of mine cries alone," he asserted.

She smiled then, a genuine one that made her eyes light up, and said, "I always wanted a little brother."

He frowned. "Sasha, I'm older than you."

"And?"

"And I'm taller."

" _And_?"

"And I'm more mature."

"Ha!"

"I am going to have to ask that you not disrespect a son of the south in such a way. We are not to be laughed at."

"Because you can't handle it?"

"...Maybe."

Sasha shook her head. "I've missed you so much, Eugene. You and Mason both."

Then, to his surprise, she started laughing. Even as her tears continued, she laughed.

"You know what?" she said. "We fell in love with the same person."

He thought of Mason and Abraham, the fire that had consumed them both. How they had pushed each other and fought each other to keep it from guttering- and to keep it from destroying absolutely everything. He chuckled.

"That we did."

They ended up making tea- something with lavender in it that Eugene was sure Mason would have loved. Grace slept soundly in his arms while they talked. He let Sasha steer the conversation in whatever direction she chose; it didn't surprise him that she avoided talking about Abraham, but at least now she knew that he would be there for her if she ever decided she needed to.

"Hey, there's something I wanted to ask you," she said after a while. "Ever since you two told your story."

"Ask away."

"When Mason got sick, it was in January, right?"

"Right at the start, yes."

"And she said it was the same thing she had at the prison, only accelerated?"

"That is correct."

Sasha frowned, shaking her head in disbelief. "I had the same thing. Same time."

"Well, it was flu season."

"Yeah, but it's weird, isn't it? That we were the only two to get it? I mean that we're the only two left from the prison who had it, and then we got it again."

"Cosmic synchronicity. Happens all the time."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah?"

Eugene nodded, loftily finishing his tea. "Trust me, I'm a scientist."

 **Mason**

She sang to herself as she walked, quiet and bright as the sunlight leaking through the leaves. She kept her senses on alert for walkers, hoping her voice would draw them to her. They had quite a supply of them up at the mountain house, but Eugene predicted they'd need a lot more before the war was over.

She was halfway through the song when she heard a twig snap behind her. She drew her fire iron and turned.

Ezekiel held up his hands. "Peace, sweet Mason, I don't intend on having you for lunch."

She blinked in surprise. "You're out here pretty early."

"Of late, I find it much more difficult to keep to a schedule. Perhaps I lack discipline."

"Or perhaps you just have a lot on your plate," Mason replied wryly.

"As do you, and yet you remain halcyon in this storm."

"Well, I've had time to get used to it. And, also, I'm not really that halcyon. I've pretty much been screaming nonstop in my head for three years now."

Ezekiel chuckled and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You hide it well."

"You haven't known me very long, so I'm just gonna let you go on believing that."

"Mind if I accompany you, my lady?"

"Oh, I definitely mind, but you're a king so I guess I can't really say no..."

Ezekiel smiled, falling into step beside her. "I must confess I never, in my dizziest dreams, expected the Reaper to jest quite so much. I also never expected her to sing."

Mason couldn't help blushing. "Oh, so...you _did_ hear me. Oh, good."

"You are self-conscious."

"I just usually don't sing in front of people. I don't know. Stage fright, I guess."

Ezekiel smirked. "That was never a problem for me."

"Yeah, for some reason that doesn't surprise me."

"What was the song?"

"'The Hired Band' by The Strumbellas. Just one that Eugene and I used to play together. Well, I never played anything, but he's pretty handy with a guitar."

"Would you ever consider performing for my people?"

Mason stared at him for a moment. _Isn't that what we're doing already?_ she wanted to say.

"I...I...why?"

"Because I believe it is always important to remind ourselves of the sunlight." He sighed. "I understand I am a bit on the dramatic side-"

"A bit?"

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "This new world in which we reside is like a darkened house. Every creak, every settling of its weary foundation, a possible threat. And we think we are trapped with the darkness. We forget about the windows, we forget to look outside. The sun is still there."

He smiled at her then, and she had a feeling it was the realest one he'd given her.

"That is why I put my faith in you, Mason. If the Reaper can offer such light, what can this new world offer, if we let it?"

Humbly she ducked her head. "I promise to be worthy of that faith," she murmured.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know you will be. It has been a trying time lately, but this storm shall pass. They all do, in the end."

~m~

"I don't know what to tell you, sweetheart. The people think they're ready to fight."

"Well, they're fucking not, and if you call me sweetheart one more time I will dropkick you straight through the damn mountain."

Mason and Jesus leaned toward each other across the table, eyes flashing like lightning. The others on the council- her family, Jerry, Ezekiel, and a few of Ezekiel's trusted knights- glanced between them, wide-eyed.

"They _have_ been making good progress," Dave offered timidly. "Maybe we could take them out on this next-"

"No," Mason growled.

"You're fine taking _us_ out on missions."

"I trained you for two months. They've barely got in a quarter of that."

"Maybe the problem is that you think it's up to you," Jesus said.

Mason arched her eyebrows. "Excuse me? I'm _in charge_ of the fucking combat training. If I say they're not ready, then they're not ready."

"Well, this isn't your Kingdom." His eyes gleamed. " _Sweetheart_."

Mason leaped to her feet, fully prepared to launch herself over the table and knock that smug look right off his damn face.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Eugene caught her before she could throw a punch, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist.

"Not today, partner," he whispered in her ear.

She didn't fight him, but she couldn't quite quell the rage beating in her blood, either.

" _I am fucking responsible for these people_ ," she snarled at Jesus. "Their blood will be on _my_ hands if I send them out before they're ready."

"Not if _they_ decide," Jesus replied sharply. "And they do decide. This is _their_ future they're fighting for."

"Man, if she says they ain't ready, they ain't ready," Daryl growled. "Why don't you clean the shit outta your ears?"

"Daryl, no offense, but we can't really trust your judgment on this," Jesus said. "She says 'frog' and you jump. Exactly how long have you been following her around like a fucking puppy-"

Mason jerked in Eugene's grip, and this time Daryl jumped up, too, just as ready to brawl as she was. Dave and Tanner darted between him and Jesus, but Daryl continued to pace like a lion, shouting obsceneties past them. Jesus eyed them both like a cat taunting a dog through the safety of a fence.

" _Enough_!"

Everyone fell silent at Ezekiel's thunderous command, though Daryl continued to glare daggers at Jesus.

"You both have valid points to address, but we cannot do that while contending with this in-fighting," Ezekiel said. "I will not tolerate it."

His stern expression made her lower head. "You're right," she murmured. "Sorry, your Majesty."

Jesus examined her with an unreadable expression. "I'm sorry, too," he finally said. "Things are just getting a little...heated right now."

"All the same, that is no excuse to start tearing into each other like dogs. Now, Mason. You know that I recognize your evaluation as the product of wisdom, of experience, but if my people are motivated to fight, if they believe it is the right thing, then I have to respect that. We have leashed this beast, but the beast knows its instincts; perhaps it is time to let it lead us."

Mason's jaw tightened. She was stingingly aware of her family's eyes on her- not just the Misfits anymore, but Carol and Rosita, Maggie, Sasha and Morgan.

She didn't know when they had started looking to her. She didn't know how to feel about it.

She glanced at Daryl, but he was still fuming.

She glanced at Eugene, whose eyes flickered across her face, analyzing everything.

"Your Majesty," he said as he did so. "This next strike we're planning against the Saviors- it would be better to go with a group of unrecognizable faces. This is not just an acquisitions run, it will be about sending a message."

Finally he looked up, though he squeezed Mason's sides playfully, comfortingly. A reminder to keep a level head.

"But the next one," he went on. "I think that would be a viable first mission for your people, if they would be so inclined."

"Why not this one?" one of Ezekiel's men- Richard, she remembered- asked.

"Because they are likely not expectin' it this time around," Eugene explained. "After finding us here and believing it was out of conquest, they are probably predicting we will be busy stamping you into submission. Negan can understand that, at least."

"Wouldn't it make sense for him to strike us now, then? While he thinks we have our hands full?"

"Maybe it would, but he's afraid," Carol spoke up. "I think that's pretty obvious."

Eugene nodded to her. "Yes, I believe that is likely what has kept him from our doorstep."

"You guys have taken out almost all of his outposts in a few weeks. Of course he's afraid," Rosita said.

"But this could still be a trap," Jesus said. "He could be expecting this next mission of yours, he could be counting on it."

"So you think that endangering the lives of these people in some dumbass show of strength-" Mason broke off with a grimace as Eugene tweaked her ribs.

"How about a compromise?" he offered. Neither Mason nor Jesus looked excited about it, but he continued on anyway. "Mason and I lead the Misfits just as we have before, and likely everything will go as planned. But if by some strange turn of events we find ourselves neck-deep up shit creek, we have a group of the best Kingdom fighters waiting close by as a relief unit."

When Mason and Jesus remained silent, Renee huffed impatiently.

"That sounds fair to _me_."

The other Misfits nodded their agreement.

Maggie cast a beseeching look at Mason. "It is fair," she said. "They'll need experience at some point anyway."

 _You don't understand!_ she wanted to scream.

But everyone was looking to her.

And every day they spent training was another day Alexandria spent fettered to Negan.

Everyone was looking to her...

"Fine," she said. "We take a relief group with us, but they _only_ step in if we give the green light. I'm not taking anyone who thinks they have something to prove."

Ezekiel nodded. "Understood. We will evaluate the fighters and choose them tonight."

With that, the council dispersed. As Jesus brushed past her, he said, "That wasn't so hard, was it, sweetheart?"

She stiffened with rage, but Eugene held her back, resting his chin on her head.

"If you kill him, that's one less experienced fighter," he reminded her.

"I hate him."

"I know."

"Eugene, it's too early," she said, twisting to face him.

"You would be saying that no matter what," he replied, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

"No, but... Anyone who dies, that's on _me_. I mean, it's not like I didn't know that from the start, but... I'm just barely starting to remember these peoples' _names_ for Christ's sake!"

"May, it is not just on you." Eugene shook his head in exasperation. "You always try to shoulder the weight by yourself, but you're _not_ by yourself. If I thought this was going to go badly, I would have suggested another way. Now, c'mon." He nipped her ear lightly. "I haven't eaten since yesterday and I'm about to say fuck it and just have you for lunch instead."

 **Eugene**

Despite Mason's misgivings, the mission went flawlessly.

They never had to call in reinforcements; the Saviors weren't expecting it when Eugene kicked in the front door of the shack where they were stationed. They weren't expecting the smoke bomb, or the way he ghosted through the room. He wore the same goggles he did when he made his bullets, allowing him sight where the others were blinded.

He moved from man to man, slitting their throats. Some of them escaped- there were multiple exits, but of course he and the Misfits had already inventoried these. By the time he reached the other end of the room, his only company were the dead men on the floor. He darted outside, trading his knife for his gun, and scoured the woods surrounding the building for anyone who'd managed to slip past the Misfits.

He was rounding a copse of densely-packed trees when Mason appeared from the other side.

He jumped, startled. "Oh, shit. Howdy."

She threw him a crooked grin. "Howdy to you, cowboy. Everything's secure. The Misfits have our chosen man- the pussy passed out when he realized who we were, so they're trying to wake him up."

"Coolioz."

He made to keep walking, but Mason held up a hand to stop him.

"Hold up there, Tex, I got somethin' I gotta discuss with ya."

"Your southern accent is impeccable."

"Thanks!"

He wasn't surprised one iota when she got down on one knee, but he _was_ caught off guard by what she presented to him.

It was a little gummy ring.

He laughed. "Oh my lord..."

She glared sternly. "You gon' marry me now, huh? Make an honest woman of me?"

"Apologies, my sweet southern belle, but this doesn't count either."

"It's a ring!"

"If I can eat the ring, it doesn't count. Although I may consider ring pops. Jury's still out on those."

"Technically you could eat a real engagement ring. You told me you used to eat necklaces."

Eugene grinned. "Okay, but you just said _real_ engagement ring, which implies that you don't actually believe in the legitimacy of a candy one."

"...Fuck."

"Checkmate." Then he peered at the gummy. "Is that apple?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Maybe."

He held out a hand. "Can I have it?"

"No."

He tried to snatch it from her, but she jerked away.

"C'mon, May, I _love_ apple."

"Whining won't win me over."

They ended up wrestling for it, like some scene out of _Lord of the Rings_ only with more childish giggling.

When they marched out to confront their chosen Savior a few minutes later, Eugene was still chewing on the gummy behind his skull scarf and Mason was still cursing him under her breath.

~m~

"Beautiful as always," Carol said, smiling down at the casserole Eugene was finishing up.

They'd made four trays already in preparation for the feast tonight. The knights they'd taken with them on the mission had returned home pretty jazzed up considering they hadn't done anything. Still, the whole Kingdom was buzzing with new energy, and Ezekiel had decided to call a feast.

"To honor our brave new friends," he'd said. "And to honor our own bravery."

So Eugene and Carol had been up with the sun, cooking in perfect tandem just like the good old days. And it was...jarring.

He'd cooked for the Misfits before, but that had been different. Cooking here, with Carol, for so many people...

It really was like the good old days.

It made his stomach churn thinking about it.

"Alright." Carol put the casserole in the oven and turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest. "What is it?"

"What is what, ma'am?"

"Don't bullshit me. Every time I turn around you have this look on your face like you ran over someone's cat. So are you gonna tell me, or do I have to kick you out of my kitchen?"

"It's nothing, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

He grimaced. "Of course not."

"Then don't. Bullshit. Me."

He was silent for a while, staring at the scuffed counter top. So different from the granite counters in Alexandria. It wasn't the same.

Nothing was.

"They are going to hate me," he finally said. He looked up. Carol stared back with her steely eyes.

"They are going to want me dead."

They would, he knew.

His family, the people he loved, whose trust he had fought so hard to earn back...

He clenched his jaw, eyes stinging.

"Not when we tell them the truth," Carol said brusquely.

"Yes, but...will they listen?"

"We'll make them." Her eyes flashed fiercely, protectively. " _I'll_ make them. Mason will, too. You know that."

Eugene nodded, wringing his hands.

"Maybe they shouldn't listen," he said quietly. "Maybe you shouldn't try to get them to."

Carol went still, the kind of dangerous stillness right before a hurricane.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I _killed Spencer_ , Carol. I killed one of our own, right in front of the rest of them."

Right in front of Rick, and Michonne, and Tara. Right in front of Carl, who had watched with such devastation on his face...

His hands were shaking. There was blood on them. It wasn't there, but he could still feel it. It never washed away.

Carol took those hands, those awful fucking hands, and held them firmly until he looked at her. Her expression was steady, but there were storms moving behind it, shadows he thought perhaps no one knew the true extent of.

"You did what you had to do," she said. "You were out of options and you did what you had to. Not everyone has the strength for that."

 _Strength?_ he wanted to cry. _You think it's strength?_

But he remembered, the letter she'd left before she'd snuck away in the night, her own turmoil over killing. And he thought maybe those shadows in her were more similar to his own that he had previously guessed.

"You don't see what we see, Eugene," she went on, and her voice was gentler than he'd ever heard it. "Everything you've done for us, and sacrificed for us."

Then she took his face in her hands and smiled.

"You are so good," she said. "And I am so _proud_ of you."

Tears ran down his cheeks. It took him a moment to find his voice.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She patted his cheek. "Alright, you know the rules."

He smiled a little. "No tears in the kitchen unless you're cutting onions," he said, though he noticed she wiped quickly at her own eyes.

"Good boy. Now help me skin these carrots."

 **Mason**

"I mean, did you _see_ Rosita?"

The feast hadn't been as painful an affair as Mason had feared it would be, though she had found herself missing Alexandria often. After a bit of wine, she'd surprised everyone by singing, Eugene playing the guitar by her side, just like they'd done for their own people.

Now they lay side by side in bed, listening to her iPod, full-bellied and pleasantly buzzed.

"I don't think she stopped giggling for five consecutive seconds the whole night. Fuckin' drunk ass..."

"I think that likely had more to do with Renee than the wine," Eugene said wryly, and then blinked, his eyes going wide like he'd said something he shouldn't have.

Mason gaped at him.

" _What_?"

"Oh, shit."

" _What_ did you say?"

"I always knew Rosita would murder me."

"No, Eugene, c'mon, are you saying...are you saying Rosita likes Renee? Like, _likes_ her?"

He sighed. "Well, I would've thought it was obvious, especially to you."

She glared at him. "Just because I'm bisexual doesn't mean I have a built-in gaydar."

"No, I _meant_ because you act exactly the same way around someone _you_ like."

"I do not!"

"Mason Porter?"

"...Fuck you."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Wait, so...did she actually tell you? Does she not want _me_ to know?"

As she said it, Mason couldn't help feeling a small sting of hurt, though she knew that was unfair. She remembered how hard it had been to come out to her friends. She couldn't fault Rosita for wanting a little secrecy.

But Eugene shook his head. "No, that's not it. She just hasn't figured out _how_ to tell you, or Daryl for that matter. And for the record, you did _not_ hear it from me."

"Big chicken."

"Yes, I am. I am not ashamed to admit that. All the women in my life are terrifying hell beasts."

"Oh, I'm not gonna say anything. She'll tell me when she's ready, I'm not gonna rat on you." A small, evil smile played at the corners of her mouth. "You know what we _should_ do, though? Stick them together on every single patrol and guard shift. Stick them together for fucking kitchen duty, for _everything_ , until they're already pretty much married. Because I'm telling you right now, I ship it so goddamn hard it's not even a ship, it's a fucking ocean liner."

Eugene smiled. "I am sure she will be thankful for your support, teasing aside."

Suddenly the song changed and Mason sucked in a breath.

Eugene's eyes softened. "Your favorite," he murmured.

"It is."

"It's sad."

"That's why I like it."

She sighed, curling up with her head on his chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm, and she thought about telling him that _that_ was her favorite song.

"I want this played at my funeral," she said after a moment.

Eugene stiffened. "What?"

"Yeah, you know... Like, I want this played instead of, like, church songs, and I want everyone to be happy and tell silly stories about me and shit. Didn't you ever think about that stuff?"

"I was a coward, Mason," he said flatly. "I tried very much not to."

"Well, I did... Ooh, also! I've always liked the idea of having a tree planted with me, so keep that in mind."

"Why would _I_ need to know that?"

"So...you know...you can make it happen?"

"...I am not sure what you had in mind, May, but we are going together. Someone else will bury us."

Mason snorted. "That's a nice sentiment, but if I go first-"

"Stop."

She glanced at him, at his eyes shut tight, at the pain on his face.

"Please."

"Hey." She sat up, kissing his forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, we can talk about something else. I didn't think... I'm sorry."

He was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "You don't need to apologize. I just... Could you discuss _my_ funeral in such a cavalier manner?"

Mason blinked, feeling her heart clench automatically with panic.

That wasn't going to happen. She wasn't going to bury him.

"Alright, alright," she muttered. "Point taken."

~m~

She opened her eyes to the beach.

It was the same one she'd dreamt of so many times before. Sand clung to her cheek as she lifted her head, her hair heavy with saltwater.

The ocean sighed on her left. She half-expected someone to appear but she was alone.

Up ahead, something jutted from the shore. Slowly Mason pushed herself to her feet and drifted toward it.

It was nondescript, pale. Beach wood, she realized as she came closer, worn by salt and sunlight.

Beach wood nailed in the shape of a crooked cross.

She shivered, suddenly cold. Desolate.

There was no name on it, but someone was buried there. She could feel the corpse somewhere beneath the sand, not as a presence, but an absence. Like the hole after losing a tooth.

She stumbled back. "Eugene," she rasped. She needed him. She couldn't breathe without him. She looked around desperately but there was no one there but her.

" _Eugene_."

"Mason?"

She sat up quickly, gasping for air, sweat clinging to her skin.

She was back in her room, back in the Kingdom. Eugene lay next to her, no more than a shadow in the dark, but in the wake of her dream- which was already fading- he was the most comforting shadow.

"Nightmare?" he rasped.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know, I can't remember."

And she couldn't. All she knew was that she needed him, she was overwhelmed by missing him, as though they'd been separated by more than sleep. He was already holding her, but she swept him closer, nearly bowling him over. She couldn't get close enough.

He laughed sleepily, tucked his face into her neck and wrapped a leg over hers. "Death needs some cuddles, does she?"

Mason murmured a wordless affirmative.

Eugene was snoring a moment later, his breath tickling her collarbone, his heartbeat enveloping her. Swaddled in the crook of his body, her own heart calmed. She lost her unease in the haze of being near him.

She drifted back to sleep and there were no more dreams, but she knew there had been one, and she knew she was glad to forget it.


	14. Nobody Speak

Alright, guys, so warning: this chapter gets a bit violent in places (although nothing _too_ terribly graphic) and there is a very brief mention of rape. Like I said, it's not super graphic or anything, but I just didn't want anyone to be taken off guard. The chapter song is "Nobody Speak" by DJ Shadow feat. Run the Jewels, and holy shit, it is _fire_ (honestly, a lot of Run the Jewels is fire, so... lol). Thank ya'll so much for your reviews and support, you guys are seriously the greatest! As always, please let me know what you think!

14\. Nobody Speak

 **Alpha**

"Please, Miss, please- you have to try and work with me."

She screamed in response.

The dead were all around them, drawn by the sound of her struggles. She thought she heard the sound of gunshots, of bodies falling to the pavement, but her pulse was a gushing throb in her ears and she couldn't be certain.

Everything was cold but her brain was on fire.

"Come with us, Gina."

The voice was at once a child's and a Wolf's, at once Feral and Beta.

"We have something to show you."

She couldn't pinpoint where it was, but it scraped over her bones like a knife, it raised goosebumps on her arms.

She heard the roar of a truck's engine, the slap and pound of cold bodies against the window, and her side, her side, her _fucking side was on fire._

She screamed again, thrashing and bloody and freezing and flaming, and Murph was somewhere close by but her vision was flooding with darkness.

"Gina," the voices whispered again. "Come with us."

She had no choice. She was following them into the dark.

"We have something to show you."

 **Mason**

"Knock, knock."

Without opening her eyes, Mason screwed up her face in disapproval.

"I'm bulking up my third eye here."

"Your pineal gland can wait," Eugene replied, flipping on the lights as he strode into the bedroom.

Mason blinked at him. "Wait, pineal gland... So you believe in a third eye?"

"I believe in all chakras. It is simply the movement and utilization of energy."

"But...you're a man of science."

"And there is a shit ton that science has yet to explain. I could go on all day about the untapped potential in the relationship between physical and psychic, but that is not what I came to discuss with you."

Meaningfully he held up his walkie talkie.

"Charlie and Dray made contact."

Mason scrambled to her feet. "Really?"

"They're at the rendezvous point now."

"Holy shit- where's Daryl?"

~m~

It surprised everyone- including Dwight, including herself- when Mason rushed forward to hug him. As soon as she did it she was overwhelmed by a wave of embarrassment, which she promptly covered up with anger.

"Where the hell have you been?" she snapped. "We've been coming out here every damn day to wait for you."

Dwight patted her back awkwardly. "Well, I'm sorry, but it's been kind of a rough couple of weeks ever since _you_ took the Kingdom. Nice move, by the way."

Mason released him, taking several steps back. "Thanks. It actually wasn't planned, but I'm glad it's worked out."

Dwight nodded to Eugene and Daryl, standing just behind her. "Thanks for meeting me today."

"How's Sherry doin'?" Daryl asked quietly.

"She's...tired. We all are. But she's okay. Better than okay, actually, with the news I have to give you."

"What's the news?" Mason asked.

Dwight just handed her a folded piece of paper. "I can't stay. I just had to see you crazy motherfuckers in person." He shook his head, grinning. "I don't think you know how close you are to winning this shit."

He said no more than that, and they waited until he'd driven away to open the note.

As soon as she read it, Mason's eyes flew open wide.

"No fucking way!"

"What? What does it say?" Charlie asked, coming up behind her. Dray, Daryl and Eugene leaned in closer to read it, too, and when they did they all looked at each other in delight.

Mason grinned, baring her teeth.

"Oh, this is the good shit."

~m~

"Are you certain this is a good idea?"

Mason blinked at the concern in Ezekiel's eyes. They were sitting together on the edge of the stage, Shiva asleep behind them. He was munching on a pomegranate, sharing the little ruby innards with her whenever she held out her hand. Everything had been peaceful but she'd sensed there was something on his mind.

"Well...we'll be playing it a bit close to the chest, but this needs to be done." Her eyes flashed, the fire raging in its cage. "We have an opportunity to bring this asshole to justice. I'm not gonna _not_ take it."

But the frown remained on his face. "It is a terribly risky stratagem."

"Yeah, but Eugene knows what he's doing. Besides, your knights will be waiting close by in case we need you. C'mon." She elbowed him teasingly. "Have a little faith."

"I do, Lady Death. But it is my nature to shelter those that I care for. I know you understand that."

Mason barked a little laugh, remembering how she'd hugged Dwight earlier, how she'd actually _cared_ that he was alive.

"Yeah, but I didn't sign up for this shit," she muttered.

"Of course not," Ezekiel replied. "It is the path most blanch at, it is a path swathed in brier and vines, but we cannot take any other. No one else will bleed for it."

Mason gave him a sidelong glance. "You should be a poet."

He laughed. "I am a King. That is enough."

She was silent for a moment, rolling a pomegranate seed between her fingers. "I really don't know how any of this happened," she said quietly. "You know when I first found my group, I was _stealing_ from them. I was starving and they caught me with a can of their beans, so they put me to work for them. And now I'm..."

She shook her head. Rick was still in charge, and would always be. She was just taking the reigns until he was free.

Ezekiel's eyes twinkled. "From thief to queen," he said. "Now _that_ is poetic."

"I'm not a queen."

He just looked at her as if to say _you know better_.

"But I'm not," she insisted. "And I don't want to be, either."

"Fate usually does not ask our approval."

"Fate's a presumptuous bitch. Oh, but you know what?" Mason widened her eyes with mock mysticism. "Fate is whispering to me right now...and she's saying...she wants you to give me the rest of that pomegranate."

Ezekiel laughed, loud enough that Shiva jolted in her sleep and scolded them with a growl.

"Here."

He handed it to her, but she paused a moment before digging into it.

"Huh."

He raised an eyebrow. She smiled a little.

"This is the fruit of the Underworld," she said. "You know. Hades and Persephone."

"All the more reason for you to have it, Lady Death," Ezekiel said, returning her smile. "Fate does love her symbolism."

~m~

She was kneeling at the grave again, the ocean on her left, the shore beneath her.

Her fingers brushed inquisitively along the smooth, salt-worn wood, as if touching it would reveal who lay under. But it remained nameless.

She was alone again. No spirits, no voices. Just her and the endless song of sea swells. Until...

" _Mason_..."

She blinked and looked around. "Eugene?"

His voice came again, just a whisper above the waves.

" _Mason_."

She scrambled to her feet, turning in circles, but she couldn't find him. Her heart beat frantically in her chest but she was alone, she was alone, she was-

Lurching up in bed, covered in sweat and gasping his name like a prayer.

" _Eugene_!"

His arms were around her at once, holding her close to his chest, brushing damp strands of hair from her vision.

"May, I'm right here," he whispered, his breath warm in her ear. "It was just a nightmare."

Mason clutched him as though he might disappear. Her eyes darted around the room, which had begun to take shape in the predawn gray leaking through the windows. Daryl was sitting up from his nest on the floor, watching her worriedly.

"Sorry," she breathed. "Sorry I woke you guys."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Eugene replied, smiling kindly. "Besides, it is absolutely essential that I not get _too_ much beauty sleep, as it is possible I might reach hazardous levels of splendor."

Daryl snorted. "I smell a hazardous level of bullshit..."

Mason tried to laugh, but her heart was fluttering somewhere in her throat, choking her. Eugene's brow creased with concern.

"Was it him again?" he murmured. Referring to the nightmares she had where she was back at the compound, pinned between Negan and a mattress-

She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. "No. No, it was...a different one."

A different one that she couldn't recall, no matter how hard she tried. She had the vague feeling that she'd been at that beach again, but that was it. Her skin prickled with frustration.

"I don't remember it," she said.

"You were saying my name," Eugene said.

"Like somethin' was wrong," Daryl added.

Mason swallowed nervously. "I don't remember it," she repeated. Then she huffed a sigh. "It was just a dream, guys. I'm fine, but I really am sorry I woke you."

Daryl shrugged. "'Bout time to get up anyway," he said and rose to his feet. "I'll make coffee."

When he was gone, Eugene rolled out of bed and began sorting through their mission supplies, humming tunelessly. Mason watched him for a moment. When he laid their cloaks out on the bed, however, she frowned.

He paused. "What is that look for?"

"She made them for us."

Understanding softened his expression. "That doesn't mean we're doing anything wrong by wearing them. You disguised yourself as a Wolf when they attacked. The necessity of survival, playing the game."

"I know. I know we need to keep wearing these for the war. But I don't...I don't know if that's..." She trailed off, chewing on her lower lip.

Eugene raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently while she gathered her thoughts.

"I know how crazy this is going to sound," she finally said. "It's crazy to _me_. But I can't stop thinking it no matter how many times I try to rationalize."

He sat next to her on the bed and said simply, "Tell me your theory."

She looked down at the sheets tangled around her legs.

"I think it's her." She shook her head. "Well...I _wonder_ if it's her."

"Who?"

Her eyes flickered to his. "I wonder if...Leslie...is Gina."

Eugene stiffened, but he didn't scoff at her. Instead he said gently, "Explain your reasoning."

"Well, the description matches...except for the scars, the burns. But it's been almost three years since I've seen her, anything could have happened. Plus, the fact that she apparently has a beef with me. And just...it _sounds_ like her. Her tenacity, her... _manipulation_."

"But you said Gina was dead."

"I never saw her body."

And that was it, wasn't it? The thought that had kept her up at night ever since Rosita had told her story?

She had once told Daryl that there hadn't been a body to bury.

What if that was because Gina had _survived_?

"It was just a puddle of blood, like in those nightmares I used to have. Right before..."

She trailed off, the breath catching in her throat.

"Right before the Wolves attacked."

Her eyes widened with horror. Eugene stared back, his expression unreadable.

"You said..." she breathed. "You said you thought Leslie was that Wolf you burned. _What if they're the same_? All three of them, what if they're... Jesus fucking Christ..."

Her throat was closing up. Her lungs were wilting.

It wasn't possible.

It wouldn't stop feeling like the truth.

"Mason."

Eugene's voice was the only thing that kept her from plunging into the insanity she felt lapping at the back of her neck.

Like ocean waves, like a dream half-remembered...

"We don't have any proof," he said. "We don't even technically have proof that Leslie is the Wolf...although I have to admit the coincidences are difficult to turn a blind eye to. But even if Gina survived, how likely is it that she followed you from Georgia to Virginia?"

 _You don't know her,_ a part of her wanted to say.

But the rest of her clung desperately to Eugene's rationalization. Besides, she couldn't afford to lose her head over something she could do nothing about. They had a war to win.

Shakily, she breathed- in through her nose, out through her mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little nuts-"

"I never said that." Eugene eyed her steadily. "World crawling with reanimated corpses? Nothing is crazy these days. But...one thing at a time, May. Gina may be dead or she may be alive, and I promise however you want to deal with it, that is how we'll do it. But only after we spring our people. That is the first priority."

He was right, of course.

Carefully she stowed away her impossible thoughts- they _were_ impossible, she told herself- and smiled weakly.

"Thanks for listening to my crackpot theories."

"Better than _The X Files_ , my love."

She heaved another sigh. "Maybe I'm just fucked up thinking about tonight," she said, though she knew that wasn't the case.

She was excited for tonight.

"Good thing tonight is going to be flawless."

"Oh, yeah, you think, you cocky fucker?"

"Yes, ma'am. Hunky dunky."

 **Eugene**

The men led him into the building with a sack over his head. His hands were zip tied behind him. His right temple throbbed from where they'd hit him, his stomach from where they'd kicked him.

"Move it, asshole. Don't make me cut your dick off now."

One of them pushed him forward; he stumbled and another man caught him before shoving him to the floor.

The Saviors cackled. One of them trod on his fingers as they passed by and he hissed through his teeth.

"Alright, take that fuckin' bag off him, man, I wanna see his face."

A moment later, the sack was ripped from his head, and he squinted in the glare of the floodlights set up around the room.

Eight Saviors stared down at him, each with varying levels of amusement and triumph, disgust and loathing.

The closest to him- a man whose name he remembered was Vick- crouched down until they were eye level. In his hand he held the nearly-full bottle of whiskey Eugene had had on him at the time of his capture.

"How's it goin', Chemist?"

Eugene stayed silent. Vick's lips twitched into a smirk.

"Ain't a chemistry set that's gonna get you out of this one, cocksucker. No Molotov cocktails, either," Vick said, shaking the whiskey bottle. "I'm afraid your luck's fresh out."

"Man, you gonna make out with him or what?" one of the other guys said.

"Break this bottle off in your fucking asshole is what I'm gonna do if you don't shut your fat fucking mouth," Vick turned to snap; when he looked back at Eugene the grin on his face was more like a snarl. "Now let's see who this thorn in our dick really is. Jesus, this is some Scooby Doo shit right here."

Eugene held rigidly still while his hood and scarf were removed.

The Saviors gaped at the sight of him.

"No fucking way," Vick said. " _Eugene shit-sucking Porter_? Well, fuck me sideways, we thought you were _dead_!"

He kicked Eugene in the side, a well-aimed blow that knifed the breath from him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but he refused to make a sound. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Negan's gonna crap a cow when he sees you. He is gonna carve you up on an altar like some ancient Greek sacrifice, my friend."

Vick leaned in close, his stinking breath hot on Eugene's face.

"But most importantly, we're gonna get the credit for capturing you. And credit means profit. I mean, he can't hoard all those wives to himself."

The other Saviors hooted, clapping each other on the back, all self-congratulatory.

Vick's lips curled back to reveal several broken teeth.

"It's too bad _your_ girl isn't one of 'em anymore," he said. "I would've loved a piece of that."

Eugene's blood began to boil.

"How was she anyway, Eugene, huh? You guys have _chemistry_?"

Vick's fish-gray eyes glittered vindictively.

"She's got a tight little ass, so how about the rest of her? She got a tight little pussy, too-"

Eugene slammed his head into Vick's nose.

" _Fuck_!"

The other men laughed as Vick stumbled back, blood running down his face. He pressed a few fingers to his nose and pulled them back with a shout.

" _You fucking broke it, you prick_!"

He punched Eugene in the stomach, hard enough that he was almost certain he was going to puke.

But through the pain, through the tears in his eyes, he looked up at Vick with cold fury, with violent defiance.

And still he didn't say a word.

One of the men snatched the whiskey from Vick. "Stop being a little bitch and help us celebrate."

"I'll fucking kill him-"

"Yeah, everyone's real impressed, but Negan wants him alive. Now stop. Being. A bitch."

Without another word, the man took a sip from the bottle and began passing it around to the others. Vick glared a moment longer at Eugene before joining in.

Minutes passed. Eugene watched them all, glancing occasionally out the window, where he could just see the moonlight as it shifted.

Only after the bottle was empty, only after the men were liquored up and laughing, did Eugene speak.

"My pocket," he said.

Vick eyed him with pure hate. "What?"

"In my pocket," he repeated.

With a huff, Vick strode toward him. "The fuck you bitchin' about?"

"Shirt pocket. Left side."

"Are you kidding?"

"It is time sensitive and I am unable to retrieve it myself."

Vick reached into Eugene's pocket and pulled out a carefully folded note, one Eugene had written out before he and Mason had left the Kingdom.

He watched unblinkingly as Vick unfolded it and read it.

And as he was reading it, the men behind him began to choke.

Some of them clutched at their throats, staggering, eyes bulging as terror replaced their previous joviality.

Some of them retched, clawing at their stomachs as if they could somehow dig out the pain, vomit staining their shirts.

Some of them fell to the floor, convulsing, biting their tongues and spraying blood.

Vick's eyes went wide.

"What-"

But his impending death choked him.

Eugene scrambled to his feet as Vick fell to his knees, foaming at the mouth, tears cutting a path down his face. The note fluttered to the floor.

" _Never trust whiskey from strangers_ _,_ " it read. Next to the words he'd drawn a smiley face.

"Water hemlock," he explained calmly as Vick reached for him, grabbing his ankle. Eugene shook him off in disgust. "The dose I gave you was very highly concentrated. Probably would have fucked over a T-Rex." He shrugged. "I wouldn't call it a miscalculation so much as thorough justice."

Bending at the waist, he pulled the zip tie taught behind him and brought it down hard against the small of his back. The plastic snapped and his hands broke free. Grimacing, he rubbed at his wrists before grabbing Vick by the front of his shirt.

"I hope you enjoy your eternal damnation knowing that I will be using your corpse as a means to achieve my own ends," he said. "I was never much for religion but you make me want to believe in a hell again. Maybe I'll see you there."

Vick shuddered, his eyes glazing, his pupils dilating wildly.

Eugene dumped his body unceremoniously on the floor. The others were already dead, or were twitching their way into death. He wrinkled his nose as he picked his way through their corpses- the room stank of fear and piss and vomit.

He took only one of their guns, a beautiful sniper rifle. There would be time to come back for the rest of the weapons later.

For now, he was right on schedule and he planned to keep it that way.

 **Mason**

A gun prodded her forward. She kept her hands in the air as she walked, just as they'd commanded. Though the men that had captured her had already seen her face, they'd pulled her hood back over her head. She supposed to prove that she really was the Reaper. Maybe for some dramatic effect, she didn't really know.

Her lip stung; she kept worrying the place where it bled with her tongue. They'd clocked her good on the right side of her face. She could already feel the black eye welling, shallowing her vision a bit.

When they'd realized who she was, however, they'd kept the beating below her face.

"Need to keep you pretty," one of them had said before kicking her.

She was going to have some pretty wicked bruises on her ribs and stomach, but she didn't think anything was broken.

Still, her whole body throbbed as she walked forward, surrounded by men who all aimed their guns at her, though lazily, like they thought she was defeated.

Up ahead, a congregation of Saviors, waiting outside a building.

Her attention narrowed to one.

"Well, well," Simon said, giving her a smile that didn't reach his dark eyes. "Glad you could join us, Reaper."

Mason kept her head downcast though she watched him through her lashes. She felt the muzzle of the gun digging into her spine.

"Yeah, Simon? You are never going to believe who this bitch is," the man behind her said.

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Well, show me then."

The man yanked her hood down to reveal her face. Mason held absolutely still, hands still in the air, as Simon took her in.

The shock crept slowly into his face, like no matter how long he looked at her he just couldn't believe it.

She started to tremble.

"I'll be damned," he finally breathed. "You survived."

"Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."

Simon's eyes gleamed. "Oh, so we're _begging_ now? Where'd those guts go, little missy? What happened to all your edgy darkness?"

A few tears slipped down her cheeks. "I'll do anything, please," she whimpered. "Just don't...don't hurt me..."

" _Hurt_ you? We're not gonna hurt you." Simon grinned. "We're gonna do much worse things than that."

An appreciative rumble passed through the gathered men. She sobbed as they tittered and hooted, creeping closer like a pack of hungry dogs.

" _Please_. _Please just let me go_."

"Now calm down. We're gonna need you not to struggle." Simon began walking toward her. "Negan's gonna want you in one piece, but I can't guarantee that if-"

Gunfire, just one sharp report.

Blood splashed the back of her neck.

There was a brief silence. The Saviors watched the man behind her fall to the ground, blood squirting from the hole in his throat. Simon flicked his wide, disbelieving eyes from the man's body to Mason's face.

And Mason stopped crying abruptly to give him a smug grin.

A heartbeat later, before any of the men could move, before any of them could draw their weapons, the woods exploded with gunfire. The Saviors screamed but were cut down quickly. In the chaos, Mason snatched a gun from one of the fallen and aimed it at Simon. He stiffened, looking around for anyone to help him.

But all his men were dead. Their blood steamed in the cool spring air, and it was only him, alone among their corpses.

Eugene appeared from the shadows. Though his gun was aimed casually at Simon, the dark little smile on his face was all for Mason.

"Convincing waterworks," he praised her.

"Thanks! I had the best teacher a liar could ever hope for."

Simon backed up against a tree, glaring between the two of them. "So...you think you're real clever."

"Well, we're not the ones who fell for this ruse," Eugene replied.

"You didn't think we were _really_ gonna let you capture us, did you?" Mason said, giggling. "You fuckin' dumbass."

"Ya'll Saviors are all the same," Daryl growled, coming up on Simon's other side with a handgun. "Arrogant bastards."

Simon gritted his teeth. " _Fuck you, pricks_ ," he snarled. "I'll fucking kill you _._ "

"Now calm down," Mason said. "We're gonna need you not to struggle."

She belted the gun and pulled out her hunting knife.

"I use this to gut kills," she said, holding it up so the edge caught the moonlight. "She's a really beauty, isn't she? It was actually a Christmas present from Daryl here. Sweet of him, right?"

He'd found it for her while they were still at the prison, while he was still teaching her how to hunt and track and move silently through the woods. She smiled, admiring the worn handle, the freshly-sharpened blade.

Then her eyes flickered back to Simon, all fire.

"Tonight I'm gonna use it on you."

Simon seethed, trembling with rage. "Fuck you, bitch," he spat.

Mason just smiled wider.

"I'm gonna need you on your knees."

" _Fuck_ you."

"You know, there are two ways this can go down. You get down on your knees like a good boy, or I sever your hamstring and you end up on your knees anyway."

A muscle feathered in Simon's jaw, but his eyes flickered from her to Daryl to Eugene before finally returning to her. To the knife in her hand.

And in the middle of it all, she thought of Ezekiel, calling her a queen.

 _Our little Queen of the Underworld,_ Abraham said proudly.

She wasn't a queen.

But she felt just the tiniest bit like it as she pointed her knife at Simon. When she spoke, her voice was at once her own and someone else's. The voice of the Reaper, strong and smoldering like embers in winter.

" _Kneel_."

Slowly, Simon obeyed.

"We knew you'd be expecting us tonight," Mason said. "Like Daryl said, your arrogance can always be counted upon. But I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, that I am so glad you're here. I've actually been wanting to see you for a while. Have a little one-on-one."

She strode forward until she could have kicked him in the jaw- and it _was_ a powerful temptation.

"I want you to know that I've been waiting for this for three months," she said. "Since you killed my friend."

Simon snorted, though she saw the anger for what it was- a veil to cover his fear. "So kill me then. I don't need all this exposition."

"Oh, I don't intend on killing you. Not right away, at least."

And she had the satisfaction of seeing panic bubble beneath his expression. She crouched in front of him.

"You ever see _Reservoir Dogs_?" When he didn't respond, she went on. "Well, it has this super iconic interrogation scene... Don't get me wrong, this isn't an interrogation. But I'm employing similar methods."

She paused, opening the door to that cage in her chest. Freeing that fire that roared so loudly for his blood, and let it fill her veins, her bones, every inch of her.

"First I'm going to cut off your fingers."

 _Like AJ's._

"Then your ears."

 _Like mine._

"And then your head."

" _The fuck you are_ -"

Simon lunged forward, as though he meant to grab her, but Daryl and Eugene were quicker. They seized him roughly and wrestled him into the dirt, zip tying his wrists and ankles together before sitting him up again.

He glared up at her, chin trembling, eyes welling with terrified tears, but only when she took his fingers in hers did he start sobbing.

She watched him for a moment, lips curling with disgust, and there was no room for sympathy in her, no room for mercy or pity. It wasn't like the last man she'd tortured. She knew exactly what Simon had done, had seen firsthand the atrocities and horrors he'd committed.

She remembered AJ crying in her room. Telling her about his daughter, Sadie. What Simon had done to her, and gotten away with. Finding her naked and beaten and lifeless on his living room floor, and having no way to prove it, no way to bring Simon to justice...

But not any longer.

Mercy was for men, not maggots.

"This isn't just for me, or AJ," she said, pressing the blade of her knife to his left thumb. He trembled and blubbered, saliva and snot glistening on his mustache.

"This isn't just for Eugene, or Daryl, or the rest of my people."

She pressed down harder, until blood welled. She leaned forward, teeth bared in a snarl.

"This is for Sadie you rapist son-of-a-bitch."

His first scream was gasoline to her fire.

Mercy was for maggots.

~m~

When she was done, she stood holding Simon's severed head by his hair. She was covered in his blood, soaked in the spray from his carotid arteries. The fire receded back into its cage and she wilted, spent and cold in its absence.

The Misfits emerged from their hiding places in the shadows surrounding them. They picked their way carefully through the bodies, guns at the ready, for some of the corpses had begun to twitch with the first stages of reanimation.

Mason glanced at each of her Misfits in turn, shivering a bit. Not for what she'd done, but because they'd seen it.

"I'm sorry."

"Do not," Dray said sharply, surprising her. "Don't you apologize for that. Monster deserved what he got."

Charlie nodded her agreement before spitting on Simon's body.

Mason blinked, noticing that the others were nodding, too. Even Dave. Their support made her feel less cold.

Daryl took the head from Mason's hand. "I'll load his ugly mug in the truck," he murmured, and patted her on the shoulder before walking away.

She looked at Eugene.

And it hit her then, what Dwight had said.

They were so close. They were _so close_ , and now Simon- _Simon_ , the evil prick- was dead.

Eugene smiled, and she smiled back, and his smile widened. Around them, the Misfits began gathering up the bodies, tying their wrists together, gagging the ones who gnashed their teeth as they awakened in their second life.

But for a moment it was just her and Eugene, both of them covered in bruises and blood and grinning like fools in the middle of it all. Grinning because it had been _so long_ , grinning because after all the time they'd spent broken, lost, scared, cold, dying, they were finally rising from the ashes.

And maybe Ezekiel's melodrama was rubbing off on her just a bit, because she thought to herself, _Here is_ my _King._

She rushed forward to kiss him, blood and broken lip and all.

 _Here is the man who bears my shadows, too._

 **Eugene**

"As a kid, I only ever got into one fight."

He and Mason were sitting on the bed, both of them nearly naked while they checked each other's wounds. Daryl was watching Grace for the night so they had the room to themselves.

Mason raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like, you _started_ the fight?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, good for you! What was the fight about?"

"Well...there were these boys that lived in the same apartment building as us, a few years older than me. Generally I tried to avoid them, as they had no qualms bullying me and I had no idea how to stand up for myself at the time. For instance, they once trapped me in a trash receptacle overnight, although it wasn't as terrible as you might think. Over the years I became quite a skilled dumpster diver, salvaging usable items, cleaning them up and selling them... It's how I paid for groceries sometimes when Mom disappeared and Dad was too drunk."

Mason's face pinched with pain and anger. He smiled earnestly.

"It was kind of fun," he insisted. "That's how I learned how to fix things. Necessity breeds knowledge."

"It shouldn't have been necessary in the first place, but okay," Mason growled, and he could tell from the stiffness in her muscles that she was fighting hard to cage that fire of hers. He rushed to continue his story before she could get too pissed off.

"One evening I came across these bullies in the alley, pulling the legs off of fireflies while they were still alive."

" _What_?"

Okay, so maybe there was no way to tell this story without pissing her off.

Eugene nodded. "Assholes, the lot of them. And I could put up with them abusing _me_ , but...they were torturing these innocent creatures right in front of me and I just...snapped. They most definitely were not expecting it when I charged them."

Mason grinned hopefully. "And you buried them six feet deep, right?"

"Oh, no, I got my ass beat. I mean, I tried to hold my own, of course, but I just had absolutely no experience fighting."

He'd had to go to the hospital and his mother had been livid; for three days following the incident, he'd gone to bed hungry.

"It was a rough couple of weeks after that, but though I knew I was no formidable force in combat, I knew I possessed other tactical advantages. Like a knowledge of the composition of basic malodorous mortars and a dogged- and admittedly naive- determination."

He smiled at the twinkle in Mason's eyes and elaborated: "I pelted them with stink bombs every time I saw them in the alley."

Mason laughed so hard she tipped over.

"Oh my god, you're my _fucking hero_!" she said.

"It was not, admittedly, my most logical plan, as following each assailment they simply had more reason to jump me wherever they could, but... I was relentless. Eventually I wore them down- many, many black eyes later."

It had been a volatile time, not just with his bullies but with his mother, who took great pains to hide her own abuse and did not appreciate him going out and asking for bruises. But...

It was somehow, impossibly, also one of the best times. He couldn't remember feeling more alive in any of his younger years than that little era he'd spent covered in welts and blood and garbage.

Mason shook her head, smiling. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too, May."

She held her arms out to him. "Come here."

He pounced into her embrace and rolled with her across the bed, both of them laughing breathlessly. With their mottling of bruises, they must have been a sight. Joy out of pain. And he couldn't help thinking that if every night was like this, he would never complain.

He felt so fucking alive.

 **Mason**

When she opened her eyes, she was on the beach again.

The grave lay before her, several yards ahead, a jagged compound fracture rising from the sand.

But this time she was not alone.

In the distance, a lone figure stood.

A lean figure with wild red hair, and burns across her face.

Mason felt a lightning strike of horror cut through her.

"Gina?" she whispered.

 **Alpha**

Even in sleep, she still felt a ghost of pain in her side.

An infection, she remembered, now that she had a little distance from it. She had blood poisoning from an infected cut, though she couldn't quite remember how she'd gotten it...

"The old man will save you," Beta whispered, and she thought she could see him out of the corner of her eye, but he was not there when she turned. There was only the endless expanse of ocean on her right, and a wall of cliffs on her left.

"He is working to save you as we speak."

"Where am I?" she demanded. It felt...heavy, wherever they were. Not as though she'd been there before, but as though she _would_ be.

It felt like an apex, a climax. Possibility teetering on the tip of a knife. As though this- whatever the hell it was- was the culmination of everything she'd been fighting for, everything she'd bled and burned for.

"The Reaper is here," Feral whispered, a shadow in Alpha's peripheral vision. She turned, but Feral disappeared.

"Where?" she said, but then she saw her.

Up ahead, past what looked to be a little cross stuck in the shore, Mason. Alpha sucked in a sharp breath.

"You can claim her," Beta and Feral whispered together, dancing on the edge of her vision. "She can be yours again, body and soul."

"How?" she breathed, unable to tear her gaze from Mason's face, from the disbelief there. As if she were really seeing Alpha, too.

"Extinguish the fire."

Immediately she thought of the symbol she'd painted on that cloak, blood red strokes of flame against darkest evening blue.

"The Chemist."

 **Mason**

Panic woke her, but quietly enough that she didn't pull Eugene from his own dreams. He slept with an arm slung over her waist, the same way he'd always slept with her, even back in Georgia when they were still just friends.

Carefully she turned so that she was facing him and pulled him closer, nestling his head against her chest. He kept snoring, perfectly content, and she was suddenly overcome with a protectiveness so crushing, so ferocious it scared her.

Watchfully she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth across their room. No one else was there, Daryl still looking after Grace, but...

She couldn't remember her dream. But she knew someone else had been there this time, and she couldn't shake the eerie feeling it had left behind.

Rigid and alert, she got no sleep for the rest of the night, standing guard over Eugene as though she could hold the darkness at bay with sheer force of will alone. But even when the sun rose, she felt the ghost of it clinging around her, biding its time.

Waiting for the light to disappear.

NOTE: Okay, so I understand that Alpha's bit in this chapter may have been a little out of nowhere as far as her infection and how she got it and everything, but I do promise to elaborate in the next one. Anyway, as always, let me know what you think. Much love to you guys!


	15. Up the Wolves

Okay, guys, so this chapter is both a tribute and a foreshadowing and it came out better than I thought it would. The chapter song is "Up the Wolves" by The Mountain Goats, which they use in S4 E12, the one where Daryl and Beth go on their search for booze (one of my top ten favorite episodes). Also, this chapter is written to juxtapose- Mason's POV is in the present and is relatively happy, while Alpha's is written in the (recent) past and is pretty dark. Actually, it's very dark. We get to see just how unhinged she's becoming (and just how fucked up Murph is) so yay? Lol Anyway, thank ya'll SO MUCH for your reviews and support, you guys are the greatest! Also, lindir's gaze- I couldn't help thinking the same thing about Loki and Mason when I was writing that scene so it made me laugh when you mentioned it. Okay, well, I hope you guys like this one, I'm actually very excited to get the next one out, so until then let me know what you think!

15\. Up the Wolves

 **Mason**

The morning was full of activity.

There was meditation with Dray and Ashlee and a hasty breakfast with the family before sitting in on a short but clamorous council meeting (in which Mason and Jesus spent half the time antagonizing each other). There were training regimes to rearrange and temporary teachers to designate (Sasha and Carol would be taking over Eugene's lessons, Rosita and Morgan over Mason's). There were all the last-minute worries and doubts to assuage (Ezekiel's the most demanding). They barely had a moment to breathe as they rushed back and forth throughout the Kingdom.

Mason found a brief moment of respite in the theater, feeding a slab of meat to Shiva. The beast rumbled her approval, licking Mason's fingers clean of blood with her sandpaper tongue, and Mason smiled.

"You know, when I was a kid I wanted to work with animals," she said, scratching Shiva behind the ears. "But as I got older I realized that unless I had enough money to run my own animal reserve, I probably wasn't cut out for any of the normal jobs. I couldn't be a vet, because I would've bawled my fucking eyes out- I can't handle animals in pain. I couldn't be a zookeeper because I'd just want to break them all free. Besides, I've always been kind of a clumsy caretaker- that's part of why I'm not big on kids, I just don't know what in the fuck I'm doing."

"You sell yourself short," Ezekiel said, startling her.

"Fucking Christ!" she hissed, whipping around to see him walking up to the stage. "Don't do that!"

Amusement warmed his expression. "My sincerest apologies, Lady Death."

"You're like a goddamn cat yourself, you sneaky bastard," she said, glaring as he came to sit next to her. "And as for selling myself short...well. I _am_ short."

She gave him a cheesy smile and he rolled his eyes.

"I have seen you with Gracie Mai, you will remember, Mason. You appear to know exactly what you are doing."

"Yeah, but...she's sort of my niece. And also, I got lots of practice looking after Little Asskicker. Rick's daughter," she explained.

Ezekiel nodded, and they lapsed into silence for a moment. At the mention of Rick and Judith, Mason buzzed with anxious energy. She rubbed her hands up and down her legs as though trying to warm them.

"So what did you finally decide you wanted to be?" Ezekiel asked after a moment. "After your soft heart ruled out any occupation concerning animals?"

Mason smiled a distant, little smile. "I always wanted to be a writer."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I wrote a lot of speculative fiction- sci-fi, fantasy... A _lot_ of horror. I actually was published a few times. Just little anthologies, nothing huge or anything, but...still. Kinda cool."

"That is a wonderful accomplishment," Ezekiel said, and Mason was surprised to hear genuine pride in his voice. "If science and logic are the ships on which humanity sails, creativity is the lighthouse by which we are guided. To which we strive."

"You sure you're not a poet?"

"Quite sure, but I will not refute that I have a poet's soul."

"So what _were_ you? If you don't mind my asking."

And Ezekiel's eyes twinkled as he smiled and replied, "I was a zookeeper."

"No," Mason laughed. " _Really_?"

"How do you think I came by my magnificent companion?" he said, reaching over to rub Shiva's belly.

There was more to the story, Mason knew, but she sensed he wasn't quite willing to reveal it.

"Why don't you pursue it again?" Ezekiel asked after a moment. "The literature, I mean?"

Mason made a great show looking around. "Um, have you seen the state of things right now? The world doesn't need a writer, it needs a soldier."

"That is absolutely incorrect, sweet Mason."

"...Yeah, okay, you know that whole 'pen is mightier than the sword' thing? It's not meant to be taken literally."

Ezekiel peered at her. "What is that you are fighting for?"

She frowned. "Is this a trick question?"

"Only if you consider it so."

"My people to be free. That's what I'm fighting for."

"And after that?"

"For them to be happy."

"You see, what I find interesting about your answers is that they completely disregard what _you_ want for yourself, you, personally."

She shook her head, bewildered. "Because it's not about me," she said. "My family is more important than anything _I_ could ever want."

Eugene and his books, Carol and her cooking, Maggie with her baby, the faint smile Rosita wore when she knew she looked like a queen... Their happiness made her happy.

Ezekiel nodded. "Your priorities are your own, Mason, and they are admirable. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve happiness as well, and I mean your _own_. Something that belongs definitively to you."

Against her will, she found herself remembering the days when she and Gina were still together, and the things that had brought her joy then. Things that had gotten her through their many rough patches, things that Gina had scoffed at and belittled her for.

Music (but she'd never liked the right kinds).

Running (but she'd never run for the right reasons).

Writing (but that was a dreamer's sport, that was nothing but wishful thinking documented on paper).

She flinched from the memories.

(And that dream, where she'd seen Gina on the beach...)

"I...I don't know what I want," she said. "Besides, there's still a long way to go before I can even worry about that."

Ezekiel stared her down. "Are you sure?"

The look he gave her- so assured, like he could see her future- caught her off guard. She shook her head.

"Stop hitting me with that philosophical shit. It's way too early and it's about time for me to leave anyway."

He promised to see her off at the gates and she left him with Shiva to round up the Misfits.

Dave, Tanner and Ashlee were already with Daryl, pestering him about reading _Harry Potter_ \- which he reluctantly agreed to. Eugene was mediating an argument between Dray and Charlie, though it wasn't necessarily an argument so much as it was Dray calmly and cheerfully pushing her buttons- for funsies, he'd once explained. Which left only Renee, who Mason was fairly certain was probably at the infirmary, where lately she'd spent a lot of time lending a hand and sharing her own expertise.

When Mason opened the door, however, she was not expecting to see Renee pushing Rosita up against the wall, kissing her with enough passion that Mason's own blood sizzled.

"Oh, hello," she said, and in her head she heard Abraham absolutely _howling_ with laughter.

Both of them jumped apart immediately, fixing their shirts, which were hiked up far enough that they left very little to the imagination.

"M-mason-" Rosita stammered, mortified.

Renee, however, was simply pissed.

" _Goddammit,_ Mason," she snarled. "Get _out_!"

"Uh, sorry, but...it's time to go," Mason said, trying desperately not to laugh as she slipped back outside.

After a brief internal debate- in which she weighed the very real possibility of getting murdered by Renee- she decided to head for the gates by herself. Renee and Rosita would catch up. They likely needed a minute to compose themselves anyway.

 _I'll say,_ Abraham hooted.

 _You're a pig._

His answering cackle was so infectious she couldn't help giggling under her breath.

True to his word, Ezekiel was waiting at the gates with Jerry and what seemed like a good portion of the Kingdom. They clumped around her and Eugene and the other Misfits, everyone talking all at once with the same energy Mason felt buzzing in her chest.

They wouldn't be gone long, but when they _did_ return...

"We'll make sure everything is ready by the time you guys get back," Carol assured her, giving her a brisk but firm hug.

"If you need anything, be sure to radio in," Morgan reminded her.

"Be careful," Maggie said sternly.

"You better listen to her," Sasha agreed. "Or you'll be getting an ass-whoopin' from both of us."

Mason nodded to each of them in turn and said her temporary goodbyes. When Rosita walked up to her- with that permanent limp she'd possibly gotten from Gina, although Mason tried not to think about that- it was an almighty struggle to keep a straight face.

Lips twitching, she said, "I don't think you got to know that wall well enough. How many coats of paint- _ow_!" Mason broke off as Rosita pinched her arm. "Bitch."

"Yeah, well, so...now you know." Rosita sniffed, attempting to look disinterested, but Mason felt the panic rolling off of her in waves.

Mason shook her head. Lowering her voice- she still was not sure how many of the others knew- she said, "You were worried that I would judge you? _My_ gay ass?"

Rosita snorted. "You're not gay."

"I'm pretty fucking gay for someone who's technically bisexual. I actually wasn't born, I just materialized one day out of a rainbow."

To her satisfaction, Rosita's snort became a giggle.

"So..." She fidgeted, trying to look nonchalant. "I mean, you don't think it's _weird_ or anything...?"

With a little laugh, Mason took Rosita's face in her hands. "Dude, you don't know how happy this makes me. This is a _good thing_. Also, I totally shipped you two anyway, so I win."

Rosita's eyes became bright with tears, although she was quick to blink them away. She wrapped Mason in a fierce hug.

"Thank you," she whispered into her neck.

And it broke Mason's heart a little, the sheer relief in Rosita's voice.

"Ain't nothin', darlin'," she replied as cheerfully as she could. "And I promise to bring Renee back in one piece, so you two can finish acquainting yourselves with that wall- _OW_! Okay, okay, fuck!"

 **Alpha**

 _Whatever the man was sick with, Murph seemed terrified of it. A flu, he explained, though he didn't say what kind._

 _The day he'd discovered the man was sick, he'd quarantined him._

 _The next day, he'd locked his other "patients" in the room with him, to see if they caught the illness._

 _When they didn't, he ventured into the room himself, and after emerging healthy as a horse he merely told Alpha to 'keep from ingesting any of his blood'. As if she were a fucking vampire or something._

 _The sick man looked absolutely terrible. His skin was pale and gray, slick with sweat. There were deep shadows under his eyes as if blood was pooling behind them, building pressure under his skin. Indeed, a few hours after Murph told her not to go vampire on him, he started coughing up blood._

 _"Very interesting," Murph said excitedly, watching the man convulse with thick, ragged coughs._

 _Alpha pursed her lips where she leaned against the wall, bored. "What's interesting?"_

 _"Well...viruses are a lot like humans. They mutate to survive. I have seen a virus of a similar nature before, but this...seems...evolved. Possibly. I will have to run some tests, and even the ones available to me are not sufficient enough to draw a solid conclusion, but-"_

 _"Yes," Alpha hissed. "I get it. Does this in any way benefit me?"_

 _But Murph acted as though he hadn't heard her, eyes darting about like he was reading something visible only to him. She gritted her teeth and stifled the urge to throttle him._

 _"Ookay, well, I'll just leave you to your weird geezer thoughts then-"_

 _"Oh, the others need water. Could you get that for them?"_

 _Alpha curled her lip. "You want me to hydrate your science experiments?"_

 _"Only the healthy ones please."_

 _Disgusted, she sauntered off._

 _Right. The "healthy ones", as in the ones he hadn't sawed into or stabbed or taken a limb from. He thought pain might play a role in the development and vitality of the cure, whatever the fuck it was, so now half of his subjects were mutilated in varying degrees._

 _That wasn't what disgusted her, of course. It was Murph's insistence on_ coddling _them, doting over them with disarming kindness while he stitched up the wounds that he-_ he- _inflicted. What was the point of babying them? Why couldn't he just bleed them and let them rot?_

 _"Alright, fuckers," she announced as she strode into their "room"- which was really no more than a roped-off corner of the store. "I'm here with your water."_

 _Those of them that were conscious gazed at her pleadingly, eyes watery, faces clammy with sweat. All of them had gags in their mouths, which, Alpha noticed with distaste, made them drool a considerable amount. Their wrists were strapped to the bars of their hospital beds with zip ties, though none of them looked as though they could have done any damage even if their hands had been free._

 _Alpha went from one to the next, removing gags and tipping water into their mouths. It was an unceremonious affair; she didn't bother being concerned if any of them choked and she certainly wasn't going to wipe any excess dribbles from their chins._

 _The last man eyed her with bloodshot loathing. He was an amputee; Murph had removed his left foot just a bit above the ankle. All of this occurred to Alpha only in passing. She didn't notice anything amiss with him as she pinched the gag delicately between her fingertips and tugged it free._

 _A heartbeat later there came the pain, one bright slash of it along her right side._

 _And then the man was kicking her in the chest, knocking the breath from her and sending her to the floor._

 **Mason**

Even with all the work they had to do, it was essentially one last celebration before the Big Night, the night to end all nights before it. They loaded their impressive accumulation of walkers into several trailers and drove them down to the rendezvous point, halfway between the mountain and the Kingdom. The Misfits packed their own vehicles with all the belongings they intended on keeping, because if all went well in the next few days, they would not be returning to the house.

While the other Misfits gathered their belongings, Eugene ushered Mason and Daryl into the kitchen.

"I hope you're not expecting me to cook anything," Mason said, eyeing him suspiciously. "You know how apocalyptic I am with a whisk."

Eugene smirked. "Well, you can sit this lesson out if you wish, but I thought it might interest you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little bag of unmistakable green buds.

Mason's jaw dropped. " _Where the fuck did you get that?_ "

"It's the last of my stash," Dave said as he brushed past with a box of paraphernalia. "You're welcome."

"We have all the ingredients to make cookies and I thought, since tonight is a special night, why not make the cookies special, too?" Eugene said.

Mason jumped up and down. " _Yes_ , oh my god, yes! Oh, I'm so fucking excited, edibles get me, like, hilariously stoned."

So Eugene taught her and Daryl how to make cannabis oil, telling them about how he had once made marijuana pancakes and gotten so high he'd thought his couch was trying to eat him.

"Wait, wait, wait," Mason laughed. "Explain this to me. It was like, coming at you like...like a _monster_ or...?"

"No, but every time I sat down and sank into the cushion, I was convinced that it would consume me, my proteins would be broken down by its polyester enzymes and my soul would be absorbed into the upholstery."

"Fucking Christ," Daryl muttered. "You were on that good shit."

"I didn't get fucked up often, but when I did I made sure to do it properly."

 **Alpha**

 _The man was on her before she could recover, one hand on her throat and the other poised in the air, gripping a jagged scrap of metal._

 _"I'm going to carve you like a fucking turkey, you psycho bitch," the man seethed, spittle foaming between his teeth. "And then I'm going to cut that old fuck's balls off and shove them down his thr-"_

 _With a grunt of effort, Alpha kicked him in the nuts, effectively cutting him off. His grip on her neck loosened and she could breathe again; her arm came up, elbow jabbing forcefully into his arm and knocking it away. She grabbed his other wrist and twisted, ramming her thumbnail into a pressure point until the metal shard clattered to the floor._

 _Snarling, she wrapped her legs around him and rolled. They careened into the hospital bed and it toppled over, spilling mattress and sweat-stained sheets._

 _Fury and pain fueled her. Her nails dug into his skin, clawing like a cat. Her legs stayed clenched around his middle like a vise. He punched her several times, though she would figure this out only later after the adrenaline had drained from her and she finally felt the bruises._

 _And then, in the midst of the fray, another roll brought her back to the metal scrap._

 _She snatched it up and stabbed him in the throat, over and over and over, until blood drenched her. Until it mottled her clenched teeth._

 _She didn't stop until his neck no longer resembled a neck, until it was nothing more than a mess of sticky red gore. The other patients were screaming around their gags, but she barely heard them over the ringing in her ears, the whistle of breath heaving into her lungs._

 _"What happened, Miss?" Murph asked quietly. Timidly. She realized only then that he was standing a few feet behind her, and apparently had been for a while._

 _"What do you think happened?" she growled, glaring down at the man's mutilated corpse. "Motherfucker tried to kill me. Broke out of his zip ties, I don't know how he did it. Maybe you need to keep a tighter leash on these dogs."_

 _Murph stammered something that might have been an apology, or perhaps he was trying to defend himself._

 _She glared down at the man's mutilated corpse. "Anyone tries that again and I swear, it'll be my teeth in their throat," she announced to the room._

 _Her side stung. God, she was tired._

 _She carved a W onto the dead man's forehead before taking his eyes._

 **Mason**

"Hey, have I always had these freckles?"

Eugene thrust his hands an inch from Mason's face and she burst into giggles.

"Um, yep."

"Don't lie to me, now, I swear I had merely a fraction of these before today. Are you in on it? Is that what this is, a fucking conspiracy?"

The other Misfits started laughing, too, but Eugene, of course, remained deadpan.

"Ya'll don't fuck with me. If this is some kind of elaborate _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ shit via epidermal blemishes I would like to know now so I can react appropriately."

"Oh my god, calm your tits, cowboy," Charlie said.

"My tits are calm. Ya'll stop lookin' at me like I'm emotionally unstapled."

"Um," Dave giggled. "Do you mean unstable?"

"Nope. Emotionally unstapled. _Émotionnellement non agrafé_. Or something like that."

Mason straightened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. _What_ the fuck language was that?"

" _Français, mon amour_."

"Since when the fuck do you speak _French_?"

"Since about the same time I learned to speak Spanish."

"Wait, you speak Spanish?" Ashlee said.

"He does," Mason grumbled, rolling her eyes. Many times he and Rosita- and occasionally Aaron- had carried on whole conversations in Spanish without translating a single word just to piss her off.

"Well, so close to the border it was practically a requirement," Eugene said. " _Español era un requisito, mais le Français était pour les funsies_."

"...Okay, I gotta say, even though I didn't understand a fucking word, that was really fucking hot," Mason admitted.

"Holy shit, yes, it was," Charlie agreed.

"Yeah, we're gonna need you to say something else."

" _El científico ama la Muerte de la Dama_."

"What does that mean?"

Eugene smiled at Mason. "The scientist loves Lady Death."

She grinned. "Say it in French."

" _Le scientifique aime la Mort de Dame_."

"Okay, now say that I am the greatest thing to ever grace this planet."

Eugene narrowed his eyes. " _Culo arrogante_."

Dave threw his head back, snorting with laughter. Mason frowned.

"What? What did he say?"

"He called you an arrogant ass."

The others snickered while Mason flipped Eugene the bird.

"Yeah. Don't need to speak some fancy ass language for that one."

They were stoned enough that for a long while all it took to entertain them was Eugene lying on the floor, speaking to them first in one language and then another. But eventually Charlie declared she was bored and asked Dray to dance.

And that was how they ended the night. Dancing with each other in the living room to Mason's iPod- all of them, even Eugene. Only Daryl sat it out, watching from the couch with a curious, amused expression. Ashlee and Dave tried to convince him to join the dance, but he just shook his head, playing with the bandage on his wrist, right below his stump.

They'd given him the tattoo just after dinner, just before eating the cookies- officially inducting him into the group. He'd been quiet ever since. There was something on his mind, but Mason sensed he wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

In the end, they all fell asleep in the living room- Daryl curled up on the couch like a cat, Charlie nestled in Dray's arms, Renee and Ashlee with their heads propped on Tanner's legs, and Mason herself snuggled between Dave and Eugene.

If she dreamt anything, she didn't remember it.

 **Alpha**

 _Her dreams were relentless, waves tossing her across a dark ocean, drowning her._

 _She dreamt she was back in her mother's house, everything as pristine and soulless as she remembered- the marble floors, the designer furniture, the crystal chandeliers._

 _But the people..._

 _The people were bloody, rotting corpses, perched straight-backed on the couches in the living room as though they were gathered for tea. And she recognized them all. From parties her mother would throw, from fundraisers and galas and mixers._

 _She recognized her mother with that goddamn perfect blonde hair._

 _Every one of those corpses stared at her with unblinking eyes, with eyes the color of a long, somnolent winter. Milk and sallow flesh._

 _Her mother's hawkish gaze consumed her._

 _"What do you expect to do with a face like that, Regina?"_

 _Regina._ Regina. _Alpha snarled._

 _"Don't call me that."_

 _"No man will ever want you now."_

 _"I don't fuck men."_

 _Her mother's lips curled in a cruel grin, exposing a cemetery of festering teeth._

 _"Not with that ugly skin."_

 _The other corpses rose from the couches, leaving her mother sitting alone, her posture as prim in moldering death as it had been in life._

 _All men._

 _They were all men, she realized then, and their eyes were gleaming like_

 _rain_

 _like rain_ _,_

 _silver on the side of a car abandoned in the woods._

 _"No," she whispered, trembling as they stalked toward her, but she couldn't move. She was rooted to the spot, as much a fixture in the room as the antique writing desk in the corner or the ornate urn that held her father's ashes._

 _The men surrounded her, growling and groaning like any other pack of cold bodies, except their eyes_

 _their_

 _fucking_

eyes

 _lit up like goddamn fireworks as they ripped her clothes away, exposing her naked form with all its scars and burns. Their eyes lit up with a hunger that cold bodies no longer knew, but these men..._

 _These men knew it._

 _Just like the ones that had taken her in the woods, another lifetime ago._

 _Her mother tsked, making no move to help her, no move to rescue her. She'd never been one for sentiment. She would always, always throw Gina to the wolves..._

Alpha, _she thought abruptly, her thoughts going numb around the edges._ Alpha, not Gina.

 _She crested a fresh wave of panic, simply having to remind herself of that._

Who are you here?

 _Her mother grinned, all dark teeth and ice._

 _"Let's cut you open and find out, shall we?"_

 _Even in the dream, she felt the pain of it as the men converged and began tearing at her naked flesh, pulling her apart bit by bit. She screamed and fought but it did no good; chunks of her were ripped away, splattered on the perfect white floor. Her guts spilled like snakes out of her own body..._

 _"Miss! Miss, wake up!"_

 _At the sound of Murph's voice, she lurched awake, gasping loudly for breath her lungs refused to hold. Her arms and stomach stung and she realized that she'd been clawing herself in her sleep._

 _There were tears on her face. Furiously she swiped them away._

 _Murph touched her shoulder. "Miss...Miss, you're feverish-"_

 _"Get the fuck off me," she whispered, shaking him away. She scrambled clumsily to her feet, her head spinning. The wound in her side throbbed with heat._

 _"You didn't ingest any blood, did you-"_

 _"Of course not," she snapped._

 _"Well then it's your wound. You- you need to let me look at it-"_

 _"Leave me alone!"_

 _The dream clung to her in clammy wisps. She could still feel those decaying fingers digging down to her bones. She needed...she needed air..._

 _"If it's infected-"_

 _Alpha shoved the old man away before he could finish and he fell to the floor._

 _"I said get away from me," she puffed. Every breath was a struggle. She swayed as she stepped away from him._

 _She already knew it was infected. She didn't need him telling her that. It had been a few days since that patient had tried to kill her and the cut in her side had just grown more red, more painful. This morning she'd squeezed a good amount of pus out of it. And the_ smell... _She wasn't stupid. She needed antibiotics that they didn't have._

 _She stumbled outside, sagging with relief at the cool night breeze that kissed her skin. The street was empty and the shops along either side were vague lumps of darkness, the same way-_

 _The same way her mother's teeth had looked in that sepulchral maw._

 _She flinched from the thought, feeling cold and off-balance. The shadows began to press in. The clouds above started to feel like cement walls, threatening to collapse on top of her. She thought she was alone on the street, but her nerves prickled, alerted to things moving just out of sight._

 _After a little while, she began to shiver._

 **Mason**

It startled her when she spotted Sherry waiting by the trucks at the rendezvous point. They weren't expecting her.

"Doesn't look like anythin's wrong," Daryl said as Eugene parked.

No, in fact, Sherry looked to be in high spirits as the three of them climbed out of the car. The Misfits gathered around them, on guard but not unwelcoming as they approached Sherry.

Mason hugged her. "Glad you're alright."

"You, too," she replied.

Mason couldn't help noticing as she pulled away that the brightness in Sherry's eyes was offset by the dark shadows under them. She frowned, but Sherry waved her concern away.

"A couple sleepless nights to win back my freedom? Fair trade-off to me."

"What are you doin' here?" Daryl murmured.

"You guys are still on schedule, right?"

Eugene nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"You wanna consider pushing it back a day?"

Before anyone could respond, Sherry handed a piece of paper to Mason.

"That's the location of our annex armory. We have some guns inside the compound, but Negan had all excess weaponry stashed in a building separate from us- it's not far away, but it's hidden. If you guys clean it out before the big night, they'll only have so much to fight back with."

They all glanced at each other, burgeoning with excitement; this would give them a significant edge, one they hadn't dared hope for.

"Okay, this is amazing," Mason said. "But...how easily could he trace this back to you?"

Sherry's gaze was steady, her mind obviously made up.

"There are five people who know about it. Only five. Negan's paranoid, it's poisonous. He may very well suspect that it's me but that's a risk I'm willing to take. Oh, also! You're all about music, right?"

Mason blinked. "Uh. Yeah..."

"Dwight included some special instructions on the back in case you're interested." Sherry's eyes gleamed. "It's not really _crucial_ or anything, but we thought you'd enjoy it."

She didn't explain any further than that, just hugged Mason again and wished them all good luck. And as she walked away, it dug in rather sharply that it was possibly the last time Mason would see her alive.

"Positive thoughts," Dray said, elbowing her.

Quickly she schooled her expression into nonchalance. "Yes, zen master."

"So what's the plan, Lady Death?" Renee asked.

Mason shared a glance with Eugene and Daryl before answering.

"You six head back to the Kingdom. Let Ezekiel and the others know what's going on, and to postpone everything by twelve hours. Radio in if there's any trouble before we're back."

Renee nodded. "You do the same."

So the Misfits drove their army of walkers to the Kingdom, leaving the trio with one car each. Eugene led the caravan to the annex, cutting through the woods at times when they drew too close to the new Sanctuary. The day was bright and Mason felt horribly exposed; her gaze flickered constantly, on the lookout for witnesses, and she couldn't help wishing for clouds.

But by the time Eugene pulled to a stop- at what looked to be no more than a thick mess of trees and vines and thorns- they had encountered no one. Mason and Daryl parked behind him, examining the imposing stew of what was likely a good thirty percent poison ivy.

"This is it?" she said doubtfully.

"If my navigational skills are correct, yes," Eugene replied.

"Well, then, maybe we should double check."

He glared at her. She shrugged innocently.

"I'm just saying, you get lost walking in a straight line."

Daryl snatched Sherry's map from Eugene. "I ain't ever sucked eggs readin' maps," he said, and peered at it a moment before nodding. "We got the right place."

Eugene stuck his tongue out at Mason and she snorted.

"So, what, they hid the guns in the shrubbery?"

"Nah. Look closer," Daryl said and pointed.

It took her a moment to see it, a dusty glint beyond a sliver of space in the leaves. A window, she realized. But the building was so thickly overgrown with weeds and tree limbs and brier, and Mason couldn't see a spot to get inside the building unless they started hacking through the foliage...

"How the fuck did the Saviors get in here?" she said; she reached toward the clump of greenery but snatched her hand back before touching it. It was undeniably brimming with poison ivy.

Pursing his lips, Eugene circled the copse, his eyes darting about with wicked sharpness. After a moment, he knelt and reached his hand into the undergrowth, pulling open a square in the earth.

"Trapdoor," he said, coughing as the musty air choked him.

Daryl shook his head. "Fuckin' eagles see less than you, man, I swear."

They descended into the clammy darkness in a tight cluster, Eugene illuminating the way with the lighter he kept on his belt. The cellar was empty save for a few ancient mason jars and a shit ton of cobwebs, but a set of stairs led up to a door on their right. It didn't budge at first, but Eugene had the lock picked in no time.

The room upstairs was nearly as dark as the cellar with the windows so overgrown. It looked as though it had been pillaged, Mason realized, with furniture overturned and broken glass glittering the floor.

But when Eugene and Daryl flipped over the ragged couch, revealing a slit where the bottom had been hollowed out to hide a bag of guns, she realized that the house was merely in such disarray for show. To discourage future plunderers, if the outside hadn't already done so.

A quick examination of the rest of the room proved it to be of the same duplicity- weapons hidden everywhere.

Eugene sighed. "This might take a while to clean out. I'll move the cars in the event any Saviors decide to pay us a visit."

When he was gone, Mason glanced at Daryl, then away, then back again.

He grunted. "What?"

"Something's bugging you."

"You really gonna follow your Misfits all the way to California?"

Mason blinked, more surprised that he was getting straight to point than she was about the question.

"I...I don't know," she said. "I promised I would. I guess...yes."

It stung to say it out loud. Up until that moment, she hadn't realized she'd made up her mind about it. Or rather, she hadn't allowed herself think about it on any conscious level.

Daryl nodded, chewing on his lip. He was silent for a long time, drawing patterns through the glass shards with the toe of his boot.

"Well," he finally said. "I'm goin' with you."

She wasn't expecting _that_ at all.

"No, Daryl, you don't have to do that-"

"Who the hell said anything about 'have to'? I know I don't have to. But I'd rather not let ya'll wander off into the wilderness without me."

"Daryl." Mason took his hand in hers, her voice low and earnest. "We're going to see our family for the first time in months."

"Yeah, I know we are," he growled roughly.

"So _stay_. It's not like we'll be going away forever."

"But you might." Something in his tone kept her quiet as he continued. "It's a long journey. Stupid long. I don't think I could just sit around, waitin' for you two to maybe come home. Not again. I'm tired of that shit."

His gaze leveled her.

"I...I choose you," he mumbled. "I choose you both."

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. She couldn't find it in herself to argue, not with that look on his face.

"Okay," she murmured and wrapped her arms around him. "Okay."

 **Alpha**

 _It wasn't cold bodies following her. It wasn't._

 _Cold bodies didn't whisper._

 _But they followed behind her in a ragged tumble, and in between their ravenous snarls she heard the whispering, she heard her own name between their teeth, worried down to the marrow, and she...she..._

 _She was so cold._

 _She moved as they moved, in drunken lurches, while her brain slowly, slowly caught fire. It echoed the flame throbbing in her side, just below her rib cage, and those corpses just_

 _would_

 _not_

 _stop_

 _whispering._

 _She raised her hands to her ears, pressed down until it hurt, but she heard them all the same. And when she turned to tell them to shut up..._

 _It was them._

 _The men from her dream, and her mother, their eyes glowing in the dark like demented moons. And there was her own skin, hanging from their fingernails..._

 _"No," she breathed, trembling. Her brain whirled, embers in a storm. Goosebumps broke out along her arms._

 _But she would not run._

 _No, she would not do that._

 _Turning on her heel, staggering with the effort it took to do so, she huffed through her teeth._

 _"Fuck off," she said and threw herself at them._

 _The first cold body caught her with nearly-human eagerness, its arms embracing her like they were old friends. She ducked before it could sink its teeth in her scalp and bulldozed forward until they both fell to the ground._

 _Her hands dug into its stomach, pulling the flesh back like it was putty. Rot-black viscera cascaded from the dissection. A stench rolled out that could have curdled milk, and still the corpse kept_ whispering, _god, she just wanted it to_ stop-

 _Another corpse reached for her, fingers tangling in her hair._

 _She turned on him, grabbed his arm and yanked him down till they were eye level._

 _"Gina," it hissed._

 _With a furious shriek, she sank her teeth into its throat._

 _Blood, thick and dark as ink, gushed into her mouth. She kicked the corpse away, tearing away a good chunk of its neck in the process. Its gore was thick and oily and tasted the same way they smelled; she spat it out, fighting not to retch._

 _But the other cold bodies were converging, murmuring their insidious secrets._

Whisperers, _her fraying brain observed._ That's what they are.

 _Frankly it didn't matter what they were, because they were going to eat her._

 _But she had teeth, too. And she would not be devoured._

 _She kicked out, snapping one of the whisperer's legs. It toppled to its knees and she lunged, straddling its back before biting into the back of its neck, right at the base of the skull. Then she rolled, narrowly avoiding a bite to her own skull._

 _And that was how she fought. Not like a human. Not even like a wolf. But as one of them._

 _As one of the dead._

 _And her thoughts were blazing, frenzied things that she could not keep up with and her mouth was gummy with putrid blood and it felt as though her infected side had been stuffed with hot coals and then-_

 _And then she tripped, not noticing in her inflamed confusion the body beneath her feet until her ankles were catching on it, and down she went._

 _Racking her wound, hard, against the cement curb._

 _And the white-hot burst of agony that followed-_

 _Jesus, she thought she'd been shot._

 _She screamed a moment before her eyes rolled into her head and feverish darkness swept in, stealing away any semblance of sanity reality self._

 _she was Gina_

 _no_

 _she was Alpha,_

 _she was_ _wolfwalkerwhisperer_

 _she was_

 _screaming as Murph lifted her into his frail arms and_

 _carried her to his truck and_

 _Beta and Feral_

 _Beta and Feral had something_

 _to show her._

 **Mason**

There was an unspoken agreement between the three of them to pause once all the weapons were gathered. Mason perched on the back of the tattered couch to watch while Daryl practiced using his crossbow with the hook.

Over the weeks, Eugene had stayed true to his word and worked with Daryl every day. It was still a learning curve, but Daryl had improved quite a bit.

Absently she traced her bullet bracelet. The light from the sinking sun managed to angle itself into the room and it was peaceful- the shafts of dusty illumination, Eugene's quiet suggestions, the click of Daryl loading his crossbow.

And then, out of nowhere, Daryl stopped, blinking as though something had just occurred to him.

"We should burn it down."

He glanced at Eugene and then at Mason, and the faint glow behind his eyes lit something in her chest. She thought she heard Beth giggle in the back of her mind.

After a moment, Eugene let out a laugh, and it was the sound of trouble. It was reckless and beautiful.

"You two start loading up the weapons," he said. "I will prepare our pyre."

A new energy tingled in her bloodstream as she helped Daryl carry their cache to the cars. Everything felt poised on the edge of a beginning, a dawning; she looked at the vanishing sun and thought that it was setting on the last day of their dark era.

While she and Daryl worked, Eugene himself scurried back and forth between the cars and the annex. She had no idea what he was doing, just that whatever it was put a look of such childlike mischief on his face that she couldn't help grinning like an idiot.

In fact, he was not finished with his mysterious workings by the time she and Daryl had the cars loaded and ready to go. They sat on the hood of one of them, watching him reappear and disappear with various inexplicable paraphernalia. The last light of the day shifted from gold to orange to red, before twilight swept in with its extinguishing depth.

At last, Eugene emerged from the cellar and beckoned them.

"Fuckin' finally," Daryl muttered. "You gonna explain what the hell all that was about?"

"No," Eugene replied brightly, then held out his lighter. "Who wants the honors?"

"Me!" Mason said and snatched it from him.

"Alright. Light it here, here and here."

She looked up from the places he pointed to peer at him. "Alright..."

She did as he said, watching three lines of flame eat their way into the building, and then...

Bright red fire crackled to life on her left, like the spark from a neon light, and next to it... Blue flames climbed the ivy-sided building, and purple, and green. Flares of yellow and orange cut through it all like fireflies and it was so beautiful. Mixing, blending, bleeding together into a single storm of color. A rainbow. The northern lights.

Mason watched breathlessly. Eugene smiled at her.

"I was going to wait to do this when we took the Sanctuary, but I only had enough chemicals for a building this size," he said. "In any case, I was not feeling patient enough to wait and I thought if we were going to burn this down anyway, why not kaleidoscopically?"

"Eugene Porter, you know how much I love chromatic arson," she whispered.

Daryl laughed, the first real laugh they'd heard him make since before the Saviors had taken them. Mason and Eugene grinned, warmed by the sound.

Smoke whirled into starlight as the rainbow, the northern lights, ate a hole in the darkness. She thought of the Battle for Alexandria. She thought of the night she and Eugene had escaped from the Saviors. How both nights, they had been reborn. And how terrifying, how bloody, those struggles into reincarnation, those screams into new existence.

Tomorrow night was going to be so different. A rebirth, but not out of the blood of the dead, no, not this time.

She _was_ death. Tomorrow was her night to reap the living, to burn their empire to ashes. She would rise in the blood of her enemies, from the dust she would make of them, from the promises she meant to keep.

She wasn't ever going to kneel again. It was time for them to bow to _her_ , to Eugene and Daryl, to everyone they'd tried to make a corpse out of, living or otherwise.

After a moment, she was distracted from her thoughts by Daryl, who elbowed her, and she looked over to see him flipping off the building as it burned with irreverent conviction. As though he shared her thoughts.

She glanced to her right to find Eugene throwing the middle finger, too, the pinky finger of his other hand reaching for hers.

A full, wide smile stole over her face.

 _Fuck, I could feel like this forever,_ she thought, and her veins, her breath, felt like auroras, too.

She had burned before, but never like this; this was burning in the best imaginable way, this was brimming with absolute joy and ferocious triumph.

They were kings in their world. Conquerors. They had crawled out of their own cinders and bones just to spit a 'fuck you' to the ones who'd thrown the match.

With tears in her eyes, with a dazzling, jubilant grin, she hooked her pinky finger around Eugene's, threw the middle finger of her free hand to the sky like she intended to touch it, and let out a reckless howl.

Daryl and Eugene laughed, and they all shouted obscenities and hooted and yipped like a pack of coyotes, a band of wolves. She'd never felt more wild and untouchable.

They left the fire to burn that building to its last embers, and drove to the Kingdom by the light of the moon.

NOTE: Okay, so I just wanted to say real quick that at the end of next chapter I'm gonna have a little bit of news on the Alpha front, and the only reason I'm not revealing it now is because I don't want to spoil anything about the next chapter. I'm very sorry to make you wait, but I'm excited for what's coming up next and I hope ya'll stick with me for it. Anyway, much love, you guys.


	16. Bohemian Rhapsody

Alright, so today's chapter is one I've waited for for quite a while. It's full of action and quite a bit of violence, so therefore the only logical chapter song was "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen. Also, I reference Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" in it, too, because I am one hundred percent a nerd about 80's stadium ballads and their relevance in revenge warfare lol. As always, thank you guys SO MUCH for your reviews and support, I cannot say it enough that ya'll are the best! As promised, I will have a note at the end explaining a few things about the future of this fic, so look out for that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

16\. Bohemian Rhapsody

 **Mason**

Eugene's planning was stunning.

Mason admired the way he made an art form out of strategizing, the cool confidence with which he appraised every angle, confronted every possibility...

 _Girl, the only thing you're admiring is his butt in those cargo shorts,_ Abraham griped.

She nodded appreciatively. _What a work of art._

Both she and Eugene were wearing outfits they'd gotten from the Saviors; they'd be wearing them under their cloaks as a final gesture. He did look very sleek in his all-black attire, and she had to admit it was a welcome distraction from the frantic buzz of her nerves.

The plan itself they had gone over a hundred times. The whole Kingdom had rehearsed it, hours upon hours upon hours, until it had become a part of them, until it was second nature and they'd explored every one of those possibilities Eugene had mapped out. If all went well, the whole thing would be fairly straightforward, but he never left a stone unturned.

At this point, this final examination was more formality than anything else, checking to make sure everything was as air-tight as they thought. But everyone knew their role by heart and seemed more than ready to play it.

"Alright, so everyone's clear on the plan, yes?" Mason said once Eugene was finished.

The gathered Kingdom citizens rumbled their affirmative. Their excitement was a physical thing hanging in the air, a haze of heaviness before the lightning. The sun was going down, casting strange shadows on the ground, limning everyone in an outline of red and gold. Mason motioned for Ezekiel to take the spotlight.

"My people," he said smoothly- no sign of the doubt that Mason knew very well had plagued him. "You have worked beautifully these past few weeks to become this august fighting force. We stand now on the brink of liberty, of righteous justice. No longer shall we compromise any aspect of our lives, of which we deserve to revel in wholly. No longer will any people- ours or otherwise- suffer under the shadow of the tyrant, Negan. No, it is time for the warmth, the _light-_ that which we have sought, and sacrificed so much for, since the end of that old world. It is _time_ \- to tear down this establishment of lies and inequity, to bleed the corruption from the shadows that would seek to extinguish us. They are going to tell legends of this night."

The crowd blazed with approval and anticipation, and Mason couldn't help feeling pleased. She'd known it would be a hard road for Ezekiel, winning their trust back, but he _worked_ hard. Every day. She couldn't think of anyone worthier to lead this Kingdom.

He nodded to her. "And night is falling, Lady Death. It is your time now, as it is your Knight and Alchemist's."

And she felt it then, just briefly, the weight on her shoulders, the weight of all the lives she was dragging into her war. But looking at all their faces, at everyone she had trained and gotten to know, a spark of hope lightened her. She stood straight and firm before them while that hope lightened her blood.

"This world is not like the old world," she said, a quiet ferocity behind her words. "For a long time I thought that it belonged to the wicked, and the dead, and that we were just making room in it. That we had no say in how things play out anymore."

She paused to smile at the Misfits, at the family she'd reunited with. At Daryl. At Eugene. At all the good she intended to protect.

"I was wrong," she said. "I'm happy to be. This world does not belong to the wicked _or_ the dead. It does _not_ belong to the darkness." She raised her voice in a defiant shout. "This world belongs to the good, and the free!"

The Kingdom cheered. "The good and the free!"

Mason grinned even wider and pressed her fist to her chest, right over her heart. The Misfits were the first to return the salute, but her family and Ezekiel and Jerry mimicked them, and then the rest of the Kingdom did, as well.

Her heart thrummed with rebellion.

"Alright," she said. "Let's kick ass."

~m~

All of the walkers they'd worked so hard for so long to gather- tonight was their gala performance.

They had enough of them that each Kingdom knight shepherded two, leashed to either arm. It was the same way the Misfits had herded their own walkers to the first Sanctuary, although this time it was the Misfits who were the only ones without any dead cargo- when they reached the Sanctuary, they were going to have to move fast.

They moved steadily through the woods, as quiet as possible. The walkers were gagged, their growls muffled. Dwight and Sherry had provided extensive information on the location of lookouts, and the Tiger's Three had also done their own scouting for good measure. They knew just where to position the knights and their walkers so that they would be hidden from enemy eyes.

When they reached a predetermined point, the Tiger's Three- along with Carol, Morgan, Maggie and Rosita- broke away from the group. Mason eyed Ezekiel and his Kingdom before they separated, wishing she could give them one last encouraging smile, but her mouth was obscured by the Reaper disguise.

But the other Misfits nodded to her as they took her place at the head of the Kingdom, like they understood. So she smiled anyway.

Maggie led Carol, Morgan and Rosita to the left while the Tiger's Three veered to the right, just as they'd planned.

Mason, Eugene and Daryl were wraiths in the dark, quick and quiet. They'd patrolled here many nights, enough that they could've maneuvered it blindfolded without breaking a sweat. Maggie and the others had done the same on the other side, and though it felt wrong to be split from them, she knew they had their end handled.

Through the trees, Mason spied the walls of houses and stores. The town the Saviors had chosen as their new Sanctuary was less than little; Mason figured that at one point- back when civilization was still civilization- the population likely had not risen over eight hundred.

And the Sanctuary itself was merely a fraction of that, just a collection of shops and houses on the main street. It was small enough that Negan and his henchmen could easily keep an eye on the rest of his people, to keep a lookout for any malcontents in the bunch.

It was also small enough to be surrounded.

"The Saviors are not planning on making this place permanent, that much is clear," Eugene had said before. "It's too humble for their taste."

Well, she didn't plan on making the place permanent for the cocksuckers, either.

And then they came to a squat brick building with a nondescript door in the back. There was nothing to set it apart from the other buildings, but the Three made a beeline toward it anyway.

Mason knocked- three, pause, one, pause, one. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Dwight, his eyes grim as he ushered them inside. There was a fresh bruise on his cheek, partially broken open and oozing blood.

"What happened?" Mason asked.

Dwight shook his head. "Couldn't convince this asshole to find somewhere else to be," he said, waving a hand at a body on the floor. "Don't worry about it. You guys ready?"

Eugene held up Mason's iPod. "Yes, sir."

Dwight led him to a corner of the room, where sat a tangle of wires under a table. There was a microphone perched on top, but they wouldn't be using that.

Eugene worked quickly, hooking up whatever it was he needed to hook up, and then he pressed play on her iPod.

Through speakers mounted on the wall, both inside and outside the building, music began to play. "Don't Stop Believin'", the first in the playlist she'd chosen.

Mason still couldn't get over the kismet of the whole thing.

When the Kingdom had begun rehearsing the plan for this night, they'd done so to this very playlist. They'd done it in order to time every action, to give everyone an idea of where they needed to be and when, so that when it came time for the real thing they could simply hum the music to themselves to keep them on track.

And then Dwight and Sherry had revealed that Negan had demanded the installation of a makeshift intercom system through the town, speakers mounted intermittently down the main street. Apparently they'd meant to do something similar in the old Sanctuary but never gotten around to it. They used it to call curfews and meetings- and to remind everyone of the tedious nature of their current predicament, more often than not through vague but totalitarian threats.

Some real George Orwell shit...

But absolutely perfect for a vindictive music nerd.

Yes, Fate did love her symbolism.

They had actual music to time themselves to.

They had a badass soundtrack to play in the background of their war, an aspect that Mason- in all her musical nerdiness- had only ever dreamed of.

And now, Alexandria knew they were coming for them.

She grinned, glancing across the room at Eugene. Though his smile was hidden by his own scarf, his eyes gleamed at her, crinkling at the corners in a dead giveaway of his own fierce delight.

"Alright, Daryl, come on," Dwight said.

Daryl nodded, glancing at Mason and Eugene. "Good luck."

As they watched him go, Mason's mind whirled, rolling down a checklist of the plan.

On the other side of town, Sherry should've already let Maggie's group inside. That was where Daryl and Dwight were going, to meet Sherry; it fell to the three of them to spring the Alexandrians.

Outside, the Kingdom was encircling the Sanctuary, where they would build the deadwall- leashing the walkers to the makeshift stakes they'd carried with them for the occasion. Though it wouldn't take long to assemble- since each person only had two walkers to worry about- in the end it would ring the entire Sanctuary, a red rover to thin the herd of anyone who might escape. Once that was assembled- and all the walkers free to bite and claw as they pleased- the knights would wait for their next signal.

Meanwhile, Sasha and the Misfits would gun down the guards on the rooftops before taking their place. They were the first line of defense against possible escapees, as well as the help from above Mason would need for act two.

She and Eugene themselves- and Maggie's group on the opposite side- would move through the Sanctuary for as long as they could, making corpses out of any Saviors they came across before the real fighting started. They wouldn't have much time to do so, but anything to even the playing field; they had the advantage of the weapons they'd stolen, but Negan still had more men. Dwight and Sherry had already- stealthily and over time- disarmed the booby traps hidden around the Sanctuary, though they'd warned Mason and the others to keep on their toes all the same.

Eugene slung his rucksack over one shoulder and reached for her. "Are you ready, Miss Death?"

She brought his hand to her lips and nodded before kissing it through the cloth of her disguise. "Sharp buttons and hella confidence," she said for good luck. Then she led him across the room to defunct fire door.

They ventured out side by side into a skinny alley. Dwight had provided a map, which they'd poured over until their brains hurt. They'd memorized all of the buildings and what the Saviors were using them for. They'd memorized the cut-off between the Sanctuary and the rest of the town. They knew that if they followed the alley up and to the left, they could skirt a wide field of vision by sticking to the bushes in front of the next building- a house with five men living in it.

Already people were sticking their heads out of windows and doors, stirred from sleep by the music. In fact, as Mason and Eugene were stealing onto the front porch of the house, a man stepped out, looking around curiously.

Gritting her teeth, Mason lunged forward, slapping a hand over his mouth and driving a knife up through his throat. He gasped against her palm but did not resist as she forced him back into the house, Eugene closing the door behind them.

There were two men standing in the living room, and they jumped back with startled shouts as Mason dumped the bleeding corpse on the floor. Their eyes widened with fear at the sight of her, but neither of them hesitated to reach for the guns on their belts.

Eugene was quicker, felling them both with bullets he'd made himself, and Mason thought there had to be a special satisfaction in that.

Not a heartbeat later, footsteps thundered down the stairs. Mason rushed to meet them; she was right there when the Savior turned the corner on the landing and skewered himself on her machete. The gun he was holding went off, but the bullet cut harmlessly into the drywall on her right.

She yanked her machete free, drove it through his skull and lowered him to the floor. Eugene covered her six as she marched up the stairs, singing under her breath.

She smiled as she stalked down the hall. There were three doors, two that were open and led to bedrooms and one that was closed- the bathroom, according to Dwight's map. Mason was willing to bet money that the last man was behind that one. She started singing louder as she approached it.

Eugene whistled along to the guitar riff, striding ahead to try the door. When it didn't budge, he reached casually into his cloak to pull out his lock-picking tools. In next to no time there was a click and then the door was swinging open, revealing the last Savior crouched by the toilet. The knife he held trembled against the porcelain in frantic staccato rhythm.

Mason swung her machete lackadaisically, dotting the tile floor with blood. The man whimpered but managed to point his knife at her.

"Evening, friend," she said and moved on him.

"No, _no_!" he shouted, slashing his knife at her, but with a powerful swing of her own blade he suddenly found himself without any hands. He was still screaming when she severed his head from his neck.

They left the bodies where they were, and the weapons, too. The song was coming to an end. They were right on schedule but they couldn't stop their momentum.

Through a window in the westernmost bedroom, they leapt to the roof of the house next door. On other rooftops, there came gunshots, and in the street confusion was starting to spread. Mason couldn't help looking for Negan as Eugene shot out the glass of the nearest bedroom window, but she saw no sign of him. A prickle of foreboding made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, but she couldn't let it distract her. The playlist cycled to its second song as she climbed into the house after Eugene.

There were six men in this house, and they tried to put up a fight.

But Eugene never missed what he shot at.

And Daryl had taught Mason very well how to gut her kills.

By the end, they were spattered with blood and the second song was nearly over. Apparently eleven men was all they were going to be allowed before the second act. Though this was right around the number Eugene had estimated, Mason couldn't help grimacing in frustration. Hopefully it was enough.

She glanced out the window as Eugene pulled the rucksack from his shoulder. The street was bubbling with chaos, Saviors running around like startled ants.

"How we looking on time?" Eugene asked, extracting from his bag the only nonessential essential that Mason had demanded they bring.

Simon's head.

It was petty vengeance, she knew.

But many nights she still woke up in cold sweats, shaking with the memory of AJ's severed head rolling toward her across the forest floor.

Nonessential in the great scheme of things, yes.

Regardless, Eugene had been more than accommodating.

"None of our own are on the main street yet, so that's good," she reported, unconcerned as he began filling Simon's mouth with a mess of firecrackers and fuses. "Hard to tell from here, but I think all the roof sentries have been scrubbed. And-"

She cut off with a gasp, her heart ramming against her rib cage.

"There he is," she hissed. " _I see him_."

And indeed there was Negan, Lucille in one hand. He was skinnier than she remembered him, his face red with rage as he shouted to rally his men.

Her throat constricted as he strode up the street, out of her line of sight.

"Shit," she breathed. "Shit."

"May, I'm almost done," Eugene assured her, though there was urgency in his breathless tone. They had waited so long for this moment...

She couldn't wait any longer.

"I'm going out there," she said.

"I'm right behind you," he replied.

Then she was out the door, machete flashing as she darted after Negan and his men. Their backs were to her and she took them down one by one, working her way up the crowd. She moved quick, so that by the time each victim realized her presence it was already too late, her blade sliding effortlessly through major arteries. And her heart was pounding so fast in her chest it was difficult to breathe, and Negan was still a few yards ahead, barking orders to the men who hadn't seen her yet, and it was not enough to be so close, it was not enough to be soaked in the Saviors' blood.

She needed him to _see_ her.

"Negan!" she shouted, her voice like a gunshot, and he and his men turned.

And as they did so, Eugene appeared beside her, tossing Simon's head straight at Negan.

On instinct, Negan caught it. And got one good look at it, at who it was, before the fuses Eugene had lit inside its mouth ran down to their end.

The firecrackers went off, the head exploding in little rockets of flesh and flames.

Negan dropped it, jumping back as it snapped and sizzled on the pavement.

The song changed. Act two, and Mason felt her pulse settle into something a little less frantic as Negan looked at her.

"We pissing our pants yet?" she hollered to him and then laughed. She didn't recognize the sound of it. It was wicked, the darkest flame.

His eyes flashed with rage but when he spoke his voice was grimly amused.

"Look around you, dumbass," he said. "You overestimated your gimmicky bullshit."

More and more Saviors were flooding out onto the street, surrounding them. There was no sign of Maggie's group. The snipers on the roof remained clandestine.

Just as they'd hoped, the Saviors assumed all the chaos was the work of Mason and Eugene alone.

Her eyes glittered as she regarded Negan. "Nah, our calculations are dead on. Ha. Get it?"

She might've said more, but just then she saw them, emerging from one of the alleys behind Negan and his men.

Rick

Michonne

Carl Judith Enid Gabriel Aaron Tara Denise _all of them_

They were _there_ , they were _really there_.

The breath caught in her throat, tears pricking behind her eyes.

Fuck, they were so _skinny_. Covered in bruises, looking so heartbreakingly _frail_...

But they were all there, and Daryl and Sherry standing protectively at the head of the group, and-

"You made a mistake coming here," Negan said, and she could hear it then in his voice, the way Dwight and Sherry had said he'd come unhinged.

Good.

She wasn't going to be the only one coming out of this with severe mental trauma. She was taking him with her.

She shook her head, grinning beneath her scarf. "We're gonna need you on your knees. You and all your lovely friends."

Even from where she stood, Mason saw a vein twitch in Negan's neck. But that horrible grin never left his face.

So hard. He was trying so hard to keep up the facade he'd built.

"You ever have those moments when life takes a breather from fucking you in the ass to kiss you like a real lover?" he said. "Only for you to wake up and realize that it was just the wettest of wet dreams? That's what this night's gonna be for you."

He signaled to his men. They converged on Mason and Eugene in a flood, but before anyone could touch them, the night exploded in a cacophony of gunfire.

One after another after another, the men closest to Eugene and Mason fell, gunned down by Sasha and the Misfits. The other Saviors halted in their charge, stumbling back from the ring of fresh corpses.

There was a pause, in which the Saviors milled about uncertainly and Negan seethed with outrage.

And the music was just right, and Mason was grinning from ear to ear, and she wanted him to _see_ that grin, she wanted him to see Death's teeth.

She yanked the cloak off first, tossing it aside to reveal her black leather jacket and the fire poker strapped to her back.

Then she removed the scarf to reveal her feral expression.

Negan's eyes stretched wide.

It wasn't shock exactly. No, this...

This was the terror of a man who had finally realized that his nightmares weren't nightmares at all, but the dark reality he'd been trying to deny.

Suddenly she remembered that night that he'd dragged her out of bed to drink with him, a toast to his late wife, Lucille. His words played over in her head.

 _"Where the weak fell away, I remained. And I realized that it was my duty to extend my strength to the weak ones. Not just to save them but to give them the weapons to conquer_ _death."_

There were worse things than death, she'd told him. Given him the hideous idea to take her people and starve them and beat them, but...

He'd raised his glass. To conquering the new world, he'd said, and at the time she'd been disgusted, at the time she'd hated him so much she'd had to throw every ounce of strength into simply not murdering him, but now...

Now here she stood. The Reaper. Lady Death. Queen of the Underworld.

He had never conquered her, not at all.

He had given her her crown.

"Death," she said.

"What was that, doll?" he rasped. In a strange voice, like he was thinking of that night, too. Like it was just the two of them.

Her eyes sparkled across the distance at him.

"Death conquers the new world."

For just a moment, that horror, that _dread_ narrowing his gaze to hers, made him look pathetically ordinary. The music closed in on its vital moment.

Seconds away from the signal.

Then Negan shook his head, and the rage was back, swallowing that leaden fear in a rush of fire that had nothing on hers.

" _The rooftops_!" he thundered to his men. " _Pull your heads out of your goddamn asses_!"

His men startled as though broken from a trance. They turned their attention to the rooftops, those of them with guns taking aim, but before any of them could fire a single shot...

A ferocious roar rived the night.

And from the space between two houses, Shiva lunged into the crowd, Ezekiel and Jerry close behind.

The Kingdom surged into the Sanctuary from all sides, and the street dissolved into anarchy.

Mason was allowed one more brief glance at Negan before she was forced to move, pulling the iron from her shoulder and swinging it like a scythe. Eugene fought beside her at his usual place on her right. Still wearing his cloak and scarf, and she knew instantly why.

Seeing Alexandria, all those faces that had watched him murder Spencer...

Fear had made him reconsider unveiling his identity.

Gunshots sounded above them; Saviors were flooding onto the rooftops in an attempt to overwhelm the Misfits.

Mason caught Eugene's eye and he nodded. Briefly, he wrapped his pinky finger around hers and lifted her hand to kiss it.

"Sharp buttons and hella confidence," he murmured and then he was gone.

 **Eugene**

It was one of the possibilities that he'd planned for, the Saviors going after the Misfits. Across the street, he could see Carol scaling her way to the rooftops, too, as per his instructions.

Dray's was the first quadrant he reached. He held his own very well considering he was outnumbered seven to one; despite his peaceful nature, Dray was a formidable fighter.

Eugene stole into the fray, driving his machete up into the throat of one man before yanking it out and cleaving through the forehead of another. Someone shot at him but he ducked, drew his own gun and fired. The shooter tumbled straight off the roof, blood spraying from his neck.

Eugene's intervention gave Dray enough time to reload his gun, and after a moment he had mowed down the remaining Saviors.

"Thanks," he panted, the yellow flowers on his arms spattered with blood.

"Sure thing, zen master," Eugene replied before jumping to the next roof.

Charlie's was the next quadrant, but she had her shit handled, screaming obscenities and taunts while she gunned her attackers down. He didn't think any of the Saviors even made it onto the roof with her.

Ashlee, however, was absolutely swarmed. She fought with a gun in one hand, and her crystal knuckleduster on the other, punching and firing and punching as she whirled about on the roof. But it was not going to be enough.

Eugene shot them down one by one, but the bullets ran out before the men did. So he lunged into the melee and took them down hand-to-hand, his blood like lightning under his skin, his heartbeat fierce and confident.

Still the men kept coming, and the fighting became so turbulent at one point that Ashlee was nearly thrown over the edge. Eugene snatched her back at the last second, pulling her away from the three-story drop by her arm.

As he did so, her eyes widened in fear. "D-down!" she shouted, and Eugene barely had time to fling them both out of the way before an axe rent the space where their heads had been.

The man with the axe bore down on them, utterly triumphant- prematurely so, as Eugene was quick to pull a knife from his belt and toss it with flawless precision. The man fell backward- looking comically surprised by the blade protruding from his forehead- and knocked several others down in the process.

Eugene handed the axe to Ashlee and scrambled to his feet.

"Stay balanced, soldier," he reminded her. Despite her incredible aptitude for climbing, she'd always found solid ground combat a little more problematic. It was the face-to-face aspect, he suspected; her first instinct was flight, not confrontation. Dave had the same issue. "Feet planted, like a tree."

She nodded, reaffirming her stance before swinging her axe into the stomach of an oncoming enemy.

Eugene himself whirled through the group, utilizing that special style that was Mason and Morgan and Abraham all at once.

Soon, half of the swarm was dead and the other half retreating back down to ground level. Ashlee had streaks of red in her hair to compliment the green and pink, and she looked terrified but determined.

"This isn't what I was expecting," she admitted. "All those other times were just...like...practice."

"I know." Eugene laid a hand on her shoulder. "But you're doing great, okay? We are going to win this, I assure you."

She took a moment to control her tremulous breathing, and then she nodded. "Okay. Okay."

Eugene left her to man her post, descending as quickly as he could back to ground level.

Discouraged from the rooftops, the Saviors had returned to the fighting on the street, where the Kingdom- though outnumbered- held an edge over them with their weaponry. And not just that, Eugene was pleased to notice. All of the clandestine movements from act one had given them an advantage as well; the Saviors were still reeling from the shock of waking up to a war zone.

They _were_ going to win this, he realized. Those weren't just words. It wasn't just a dream any longer.

They had waited _so long_.

With a brutal little smirk, he returned to the battlefield.

 **Mason**

She couldn't stop grinning. The savage set of her mouth threw off every opponent she came across, and she supposed it wasn't a comforting sight, Death's bloody, delighted smile. But she wasn't doing it to unnerve them. She honestly couldn't _stop_.

After so long, after _so long_ -

After all the sleepless nights, the sacrifices, the blood and walkers and snowstorms and bruised knuckles, the terror of doubting _every damn day_ if they were doing the right thing, moving in the right direction-

Here they were.

And her fire was _free_ , it was _finally fucking free_ , and suddenly that violence inside of her had somewhere else to go besides her own chest, something else to feast on besides her own thoughts.

She was in the thick of it. She caught a punch to the jaw, a kick to the ribs, an elbow to the shoulder. Twice her skin was grazed by bullets and several more times by knives, but the pain was secondary. At least it wasn't one of her people taking that punch, that bullet. She was not just the Reaper, she was _mother_ to this fighting force, mother to her Misfits, and if she came out of this ragged and broken then so be it. She was the sword and the shield. She _should_ come out of it bloodier than the rest.

There was no fear in her. All the anxieties of the past few months were ash as she danced through the fray. She moved as though her cells were sparks. She _blazed_. And in between the gore and heat and gun smoke she caught glimpses of her people.

Rosita, moving with feline litheness in spite of her limp.

Morgan facing down four men at a time with that damn concussion stick of his.

Eugene, shooting bomb arrow after bomb arrow at clusters of Saviors.

Daryl at last returning to his crossbow, using his hook for closer combat.

Maggie and...

And Glenn beside her.

Mason's momentum stuttered for just a heartbeat.

He looked so _real_. As real as his voice had sounded that day in the snow, as real as Abraham's had sounded in the graveyard...

She caught one brief, burning image of him- the grim determination as he fought by Maggie's side, and the _love_ there. God, the unending love, and devotion... And then she lost sight of them both in the chaos.

But then there was Abraham, grinning at her in that way of his, that way that automatically pissed her off because she knew he was about to say something smartass.

"Dig the lead out of your ass crack, girlio. Can't slow down, can't stop. You know that. Or do you think the whole war is gonna wait for you?"

In a blink he was gone, but Mason had no time to question her sanity. Two men surged toward her, very nearly taking her off her feet. Gritting her teeth, she planted herself right where she stood and jabbed her fire iron through the leg of one man. He collapsed, blood spouting from the wound, but the other man grabbed her by the throat and pressed a knife to her belly.

It gouged her, drawing blood, but before it could really sink in, Jerry appeared out of nowhere.

"Head's up!" he shouted, swinging his axe and decapitating the man.

The body fell away from her, splashing her with blood. She touched her throat, watching the man's head roll away into the crowd.

"Thanks," she rasped. "That was a close shave."

Jerry grinned. "Nice one."

"Nice one, yourself. Your wordplay really is _cutting edge_."

Jerry bowed his head, giggling. "My cutting edge is yours, Lady Death," he said and twirled his axe for emphasis.

" _Now is not the time for puns_!" Ezekiel hissed, appearing next to them with Shiva close by. "I cannot believe I actually have to vocalize this in the middle of such a crusade!"

"Sorry, your Majesty," Mason and Jerry chorused, throwing each other cheesy grins before launching back into the fight.

So there she stayed, in the middle of it all with Jerry and Ezekiel and Shiva, and Eugene and Daryl when they, too, fought their way to her side.

And after a while, one by one, the surviving Saviors began to surrender.

They halted right where they stood and knelt, in the blood of their brethren, some of them furious at the defeat, some of them terrified, some of them too exhausted to pretend to feel anything.

A few of them bowed to Mason, their heads to the pavement like supplicants seeking mercy from an indomitable god. Only later, once the adrenaline and bloodlust had faded, would she feel uneasy about this.

Soon it was just a small pocket of men that remained standing, staring at those who had ceded with outrage, disbelief, disgust.

Negan was among them, covered in blood and bruises, heaving for breath as though resurfacing from a great depth.

Mason stared him down. "On your knees."

He spat in her direction. "Go fuck yourself, doll."

Quicker than lightning, Eugene shot an arrow straight into Negan's knee cap. With a shout, Negan collapsed to one side.

"Anyone else has something less than polite to say to the Reaper," Eugene said, nocking a second arrow, "they get this through the eye."

The men watched him for a moment with pure loathing. But Eugene never blinked, his bow never wavered, and after a long, tense pause, the last standing Saviors sank to their knees.

There was a part of her that couldn't believe it.

Even though she saw it happen, even though the world, the ground beneath her feet, her own body felt painfully, stingingly real.

Mason took measured steps toward Negan, flanked by Eugene and Daryl, Ezekiel, Jerry and Shiva not far behind. Her legs were starting to feel like jelly, but she managed not to falter, not even to sag, as she came to a halt in front of the man who had stolen so much from her.

He reached for Lucille, but Mason was quicker, snatching it up before he could reach it.

"Give that back, you fucking cunt," Negan snapped, his eyes approaching madnesss. " _You give her back to me_!"

"No."

Gently she touched Lucille to Negan's chin, lifting his head up so she could get a good look at the face that had haunted her this whole time.

"There are so many things you took from my people, my _family_ , that you can never give back," she murmured. "Well, now it's our turn. Consider this remuneration- for every little bit of ourselves we were forced to give away."

Eugene was ready with the lighter fluid he'd tucked into his cloak. When Mason handed Lucille to him, he doused the wicked thing, tossed the empty canister aside and pulled out his lighter.

" _I'll burn you alive_ ," Negan was snarling. " _I'll burn you alive you pathetic chicken fried McFuck-_ "

Eugene touched the flame to Lucille and she blazed like a torch.

Negan lunged for them with a thunderous roar, but suddenly Shiva was there, looming over him with her teeth bared. Only a sharp command from Ezekiel kept her at bay.

In the end, Negan had the good sense not to take on a whole tiger by himself, although for a moment Mason was almost convinced he might. The look on his face reminded her of that edge she'd tiptoed once, the day she'd tried to kill Tanner. Little mattered, she knew, except for the unearthly fury beating at his blood. It was possible he wasn't even hearing her as she spoke, but she spoke anyway.

"This is atonement, Negan, for all the ways you and your men have raped and pillaged to feed your bullshit empire," she said. "Say goodbye to everything you had going for you."

And suddenly there was Glenn again, and Abraham, standing on either side of her. She saw them only in her peripheral vision but she _felt_ their presence as sure as anything. Just as sure as she was that no one else saw them, that it was only her, and if that made her crazy then she didn't care.

She grinned as she met the the flat black hate in Negan's eyes.

"Welcome to the new world order."

NOTE: So I wanted this chapter to be the dark, triumphant sister to the Bad Chapter (you know...where Negan makes his grand entrance and all that), and I hope I accomplished that. But! That's not all this chapter is supposed to be. It is also a cut-off point, because we are already half way through this story (which is crazy to me, but anyway.) And while this first half has been all about Mason and Negan and their war and all that, the second half is going to focus on something I've been looking forward to since the start, and that is Mason and Alpha. I don't want to give anything away, _but_ , like I mentioned a few chapters ago, this _is_ a reunion story, and I promise all the waiting is leading up to some big things. Seriously, I have so much stuff I'm excited to share in this last half, you guys. I hope you're excited for it, too. As always, thanks for sticking with me so far (honestly, I cannot thank ya'll enough). Until next chapter, let me know what you think. Much love.


	17. Wild Sun

Hello, all! Well, we've got a big chapter here, and I'm pretty excited about, there's lots in here that I've been waiting to write for a while- lots of drama, and my all-time favorite interaction between Eugene and Negan. It's not necessarily happy, but it's not all dark, either. Emotionally it's a bit of a mess, because it just wouldn't feel authentic to wrap up the war all nice and neat, you know? Anyway, the chapter song is "Wild Sun" by The Strumbellas, it's so great, and honestly The Strumbellas are such a TWD band anyway, it's incredible. As always, thank you guys a hundred times over for your reviews and support, you are the greatest! Hope ya'll enjoy this one. Let me know what you think!

17\. Wild Sun

 **Mason**

Mason turned her triumphant gaze from Negan to Daryl. "I want all these sorry pricks locked up wherever it was they kept our people," she said. "They can wait there while we discuss what should be done with them."

Daryl dipped his head. "Sure thing, boss."

He rounded up a group of knights to lead the prisoners away. One of them grabbed Negan and hefted him to his feet, and Mason didn't flinch from the murderous look he gave her as he was dragged away.

When the street was clear of Saviors- aside from the bodies of those already dead- it hit her like a bullet.

They had done it.

 _They had won._

" _Holy shit_..." she breathed, flicking her gaze to Eugene, who was covered in blood and looked about as ragged as she felt. But his eyes shone with the same jubilance, the same disbelief.

"Holy shit is correct," he murmured.

Her knees shook. Her fingers trembled. She thought she might collapse completely but by some miracle she held herself up.

They had won. They had won.

"Um." She turned to Ezekiel and Jerry, shaking her head to clear it of its post-adrenaline haze. "We need patrols. Compass rose divisions. See if anyone got past the deadwall."

"If they did," Jerry asked, arching an eyebrow, "what's the procedure? I mean...we already beat them..."

Mason glanced at Ezekiel. "You deal with it however you need to deal with it. It's your world now."

Ezekiel nodded. "If we are provoked, if violence is our only option, we will not shy from it. But you are right, Jerry. We are victorious. We shall give them the option of surrender first."

Eyes glowing, he reached out to take Mason and Eugene's hands in his.

"Thank you," he said fervently. "You have led us to our freedom."

"None of this would have been possible without the aid of the Kingdom," Eugene said. "We found freedom together."

"Indeed, Sir Alchemist."

Ezekiel and Jerry left to arrange their knights into groups. Mason turned to Eugene.

"Okay, sweetheart?" she said gently. "I know we've been waiting for this forever, but..."

Eugene nodded, though she didn't miss the flash of pain, the flash of panic, in his eyes.

"Yes, ma'am, I know the drill," he said. "Just...just call me over when you think...they're ready."

She wrapped her pinky finger around his and offered him an encouraging smile, but when he stepped away- to lay low until she'd had a chance to explain a few things to her family- she felt her own stomach clench with apprehension.

How was it that she more nervous about this part than the actual bloodshed?

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she looked to where she'd last seen the Alexandrians. At first, when she couldn't see them, a cold jab of panic knifed through her. But then there they were.

 _There they were._

There was Rick, and Michonne, and the others, all sticking close together and eyeing the knights with unfettered mistrust. And she realized that she'd only overlooked them at first because she had expected them to remain clean of the grime of battle. But their clothes were torn, spattered with blood, as though they'd fought with the rest of them.

Mason's throat tightened.

That was when Rick saw her, too.

He cocked his head to the side, like he wasn't sure she was really there, and took an unsteady step toward her.

"Mason?" he rasped.

She tried to speak but nothing came out. Too flooded with tears. She was filled with them.

His eyes glistened with tears of his own. They made tracks down his face as he stumbled closer, and said her name again, his voice like fracturing glass.

"Mason?"

She was still too choked to speak, so she just nodded, lips trembling as she took the last few steps to collapse into his arms.

He gripped her tight enough that it hurt. He gripped her as though he was afraid she would disappear the moment he let go. And when he finally did release her, it was only to lean back to get a good look at her, to examine every inch of her for injuries, or possibly to assure himself that she really was standing in front of him.

"You...you did all this?" he whispered.

"Not just me," she said, but before she could explain, Michonne appeared.

She took Mason's face in her hands, eyes wide with shock, and then pulled her against her chest, cradling her gently, fiercely.

"We thought you were dead," she whispered, and there was fear in her voice. Like she was not entirely convinced of Mason's beating heart.

"Oh, nope," Mason laughed weakly. "Just the queen of the dead. And it's not just me-"

But again, she was cut off, this time by Carl and Enid as they slammed into her and Michonne. And for being so skinny, they sure squeezed the hell out of her.

And Judith was there, too, in Carl's arms. "Auntie May!" she squealed, wrapping her arms possessively around Mason's neck.

Next thing she knew, she was snug in the very center of her people- Tara and Denise hugging her and crying, Aaron and Eric straining through the crowd to clutch her arms. Gabriel touched her cheek and said simply, "You returned to us."

Yes.

 _Yes._

After all this time, every hardship-

It had brought her back to her family.

In the middle of this, Maggie found her way to them, and Rosita and Morgan and Carol and Sasha. And there were so many tears, and so much laughter, but...

It wasn't perfect. Not yet.

She still had a story to tell. One last Lie to unravel.

Mason found her way back to Rick, trying to ignore the way his tattered clothes hung from his thin frame.

"There's something that I-"

An anguished wail cut her off, and she went rigid.

Who was it? Her mind raced, eyes flickering from face to face. Everyone was accounted for, except-

Sherry and Dwight.

She swallowed hard.

"I'll be right back," she said.

Rick frowned, like he wanted to argue. She eyed him steadily.

"I will. I promise."

With a quick, apologetic glance at Eugene, who hovered uncertainly in the shadow of an alley, she rushed away to find the source of the noise.

 **Eugene**

Anxiously he wrung his hands, trying to draw strength from the gloves that had once been Abraham's, as though they were now talismans against the fear wracking him.

Mason hadn't given him the green light, hadn't gotten a chance to tell his story.

 _Tell them yourself,_ a small, hopeful voice suggested.

But he couldn't do that.

They knew nothing of what he or Mason had done to get to this point, Dwight had already warned him. No one had been allowed in or out of their cell except a select few guards and Negan himself. They didn't know anything except that he had apparently pledged himself to Negan, had _betrayed_ them so thoroughly...

Had murdered Spencer.

He swallowed hard.

There was blood on his hands now, blood covering him head to toe...

 _Stop._

He closed his eyes. Breathed in squares, the way Mason did to quell her panic attacks.

He hoped she returned soon.

His lungs weren't working right.

 **Mason**

Around the corner of a building, where the tiny town met the forest, Mason found Daryl, Dave, Dray and Sherry hovering over a body.

She slowed when she saw it, her veins immediately going cold.

The body was mangled, the skull absolutely mutilated. Blood and brains splattered the ground in a way

 _(Glenn)_

she recognized

 _(Abraham)_

and her stomach gave a sick, sluggish flip.

She might not have been able to tell it was Dwight if she'd come across it by herself, but Sherry...

Sherry was sobbing in a way that raised the hairs on Mason's arms, and Daryl was holding her up as though she had no strength left in her legs, and Mason's earlier joy was swept away by an icy wave of horror.

She staggered forward and Daryl caught her eye, his own brimming with sorrow and rage.

"I've got you, c'mon," he murmured in Sherry's ear. "Don't look."

Dave reached for her, his expression tremulous. "We...we'll help you bury him..."

"Of course we will," Dray said, gentle and unwaveringly calm in spite of everything. Mason threw him a grateful glance.

"I'm not ready," Sherry managed to say, sliding weakly from Daryl's grip to kneel next to Dwight. Her trembling fingers knotted in his bloody, shredded shirt. She shook her head back and forth, back and forth. "I'm not ready, I'm not ready."

"I know," Dray murmured, crouching next to her, and Daryl on her other side.

Dave looked at Mason, eyes wide and helpless. She reached out a hand to draw him into her arms, resting her chin on his head while he cried silently against her shoulder.

Eventually they sat, too, offering what comfort they could to Sherry.

But Mason _knew_ Sherry's despair, the sorrow that was not sorrow but something more, something infinitely heavier.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, they could do to make it better.

 **Eugene**

He couldn't make his brain shut up. No matter how hard he tried to think of different things, he could not stop seeing Rick's face, and Michonne's, and the faces of the rest of his family as they embraced Mason.

He had known this was going to be hard. They had discussed this procedure time and again, Mason offering many times to stand by his side again while they both greeted their family.

"I'll protect you," she had said, and he knew she would, but this was the better option. Give them time to reorder their opinion of him so that she didn't have to protect him.

Also, there had been a part of him that had wanted to delay this reunion as long as possible. But now...

Now all he could think was that the last time they'd seen him, they'd looked at him like a monster.

 _(Because you are one.)_

They'd looked at him like they didn't know him and never had.

 _(Because you fooled them.)_

Yes, he had fooled them, tricked them, snowed them, because he was a _liar,_ that was all he was good for, all he had ever been good for-

 _Stop,_ he thought, gritting his teeth.

But now that the war was over- now that he no longer had to control his emotions, his crippling doubts, to get shit done- they _poured_ over him, they gnawed on his bones, they _swallowed him whole_.

 _(They will never forgive you. And you wouldn't deserve it anyway.)_

 _Stop, please._

Where was Mason? He needed Mason. He needed her-

 _(You don't deserve her, either. She is better than you. She is a pure thing you corrupted.)_

Tears blurred his vision. Fuck, it was bad. It was bad this time, it was bad-

 _Breathe. Just keep breathing._

 _(You shouldn't.)_

And for a moment, his breathing _did_ stop.

He was a murderer, a liar. Maybe there had been another option that day with Spencer but he'd been too cowardly to see it.

Maybe he was still just as pathetic and useless as he'd been when he'd claimed to be a scientist.

He had killed nine people with that Lie. Nine of his friends. No, he hadn't forgotten.

Mason had spirits that haunted her.

He had his own.

Up ahead, Rick had broken off from the group, peering toward the place where Mason had disappeared.

 _She's coming back,_ Eugene wanted to assure him.

But god, _when_?

He was starting to regret this plan, this stupid fucking plan that _he_ had insisted on. All he wanted was to see his people. All he wanted was to get that last image of their faces out of his mind.

He just wanted his _family_.

He and Mason were exactly alike in this aspect. Both broken children searching for a place to call home, a surrogate happy ending.

Well, there they were, right in front of him, and dammit, he wasn't waiting any longer. It was stupid, it was reckless, but he took that step out of the shadows, toward Rick.

Maybe he could explain the whole thing. Maybe they wouldn't hear him out at all. But they...they were his judgment. No matter what, he had to face them.

His steps faltered when Rick spotted him, but that voice in his head spurred him on. Taunted him.

 _(You can't run from this, coward, and you can't lie your way out of it, either.)_

Well, he didn't intend to. The truth was all he had. So he kept going, forcing himself forward until there was only a few feet separating them.

His fingers shook. His whole body was trembling.

"Rick," he said, his voice rather wispy.

Recognition- shock- glinted in Rick's eyes. Steeling his spine, Eugene peeled off his Chemist disguise.

He stood there, feeling unbelievably small and exposed, as Rick took him in.

And every word he'd been preparing to say, every little bit of the truth, died on his tongue at the look on Rick's face.

The absolute and heart-wrenching _hate_ that contorted his features, glittered in his eyes.

"Rick," he tried to say again. Nothing came out.

" _You son-of-a-bitch_ ," Rick snarled and lunged for him.

The first punch came like a meteor exploding in his left temple. The first punch had him reeling back, stars spinning across his vision.

The second punch knocked him on his ass.

Rick sailed to the ground with him, one hand fisted in the front of his shirt, the other drawing back for another hit.

Eugene could have blocked him.

He could have rolled to the side, he could have kicked Rick away- Jesus, the guy was so skinny it probably wouldn't have taken much. He could have done _something_.

But the third punch came, and a fourth one after that, and he did nothing to stop it, nothing to defend himself.

 _(You deserve this.)_

He did.

He did he did he did-

Blood choked him. His nose was broken, of that he was certain. There was a dull ringing in his ears that sounded vaguely like screaming...

Or maybe that was Sasha, trying to fight her way through the crowd to get to him. Or Carol wrestling away from Tobin with a thunderous expression.

But nobody reached them, nobody even got close, before Rick pulled a jagged piece of broken glass from his belt- already stained with blood, he must have fought with it- and pressed it to Eugene's throat.

 **Mason**

She heard the uproar before she saw it- voices raised in anger, voices raised in protest.

She darted through an alley onto the main street with Dave and Dray hard on her heels. Daryl was lagging behind with Sherry, who, after they'd moved Dwight's body, had insisted on investigating the sudden commotion with them. Mason suspected she was grasping for something, anything, to distract herself.

She paused just briefly when she saw her family, looming over something in the middle of the street. Carol was fighting to free herself from Tobin's grasp. Sasha and Rosita were struggling to move through the crowd, which had become something of a vise around them. Holding them back. Crying for blood.

And then Mason spotted Rick, crouched on top of Eugene.

Holding a shard of glass to his throat.

Mason froze in utter shock.

Eugene had said... He'd said they'd want to kill him for what he'd done, but in the back of her mind she'd always doubted it would ever come to that.

But there was Rick, pressing in with his makeshift weapon until blood welled, and Eugene with tears on his face, not doing a damn thing to defend himself.

" _I'll kill you, you fucking coward,_ " Rick seethed. " _I'll carve you into pieces, you traitor piece of shit_!"

At that, Mason snapped.

She surged forward, the fire erupting through every inch of her like a phoenix flaring its wings. It didn't matter that it was Rick, it didn't matter that they had just reunited after so long, it didn't matter, it didn't matter.

She slammed into him before he even registered her presence. They went tumbling away from Eugene, the fragment of glass skittering away across the pavement.

She punched him twice across the face; pain sang in her worn knuckles, but she barely noticed it through the bloodlust...

 _Reign it in, soldier!_ Abraham barked- just a voice in her head once more, but sharp enough that it brought her up short.

Reign...reign it in?

But how could she? He'd had that glass at _Eugene's throat_ and she was burning, livid, _seeing red_ -

 _You step the fuck back, soldier, before you do something you regret._

Abruptly she rolled to her feet, angling herself between Rick and Eugene, between _everyone_ and Eugene. Her teeth were clenched in a frightening snarl, her fingers on the gun on her belt. The crowd had fallen silent at her starling appearance and were now watching her warily, confused.

Rick scrambled to his feet, blood running from his nose. He cocked his head at her.

"Let me have him, Mason," he growled.

"No." Her voice was iron, a molten storm spilling across the sky.

Disbelief and outrage colored his expression. He reached down to snatch a handgun from one of the dead Saviors and tried to aim it at Eugene.

Without flinching, without missing a beat, Mason stepped in front of that gun and aimed her own back at Rick. And it was so wrong, everything about this was wrong, but there was not an inch of her that didn't mean it when her finger brushed the trigger.

" _Move_ , Mason," Rick snarled.

But she would not yield a single step. The flames inside of her continued to rage, but they were suddenly, bewilderingly frigid.

Rick's ire might have been terrifying if her own were not consuming her bones.

He shook his gun at her. "Do you know- _d_ _o you know what he did_?"

Endured merciless beatings at the hands of Negan's lackeys.

Sold his soul to the man who had murdered his friends.

Watched that same man take Mason as his wife.

Murdered one of his own.

All to save his family.

She eyed Rick coldly and said, "Do you?"

A muscle feathered in his jaw, his eyes flashing. He did not lower his gun.

And then Daryl was flanking her, his crossbow raised. Rosita and Sasha claimed the space on her other side, and Carol, Maggie, Morgan. The other Misfits gathered around her in a tight circle, and all of them together formed an impenetrable wall between Eugene and Rick.

"You don't know what you're doin'," Daryl said in a strained voice. "Put down the gun."

"Listen to him, Rick," Maggie said. "There's a part of this story you don't know yet. You need to hear it."

Still Rick did not move. In the end, it was Carl who hesitantly stepped forward, his brow crinkling with a confusion of emotion.

"What story?" he asked.

Daryl and the Misfits, Maggie and the others, all of them turned to Mason.

She shook her head, feeling wintry, feeling disconnected from herself.

"You explain it," she said. She couldn't even look at them. All these months she'd dreamed of seeing them again, and she couldn't bear to look at them.

Daryl caught her arm as she turned away. "Hey," he murmured. "You know it ain't their fault. They didn't know."

Numbly she pulled away, turning her back on everyone.

He was right, she knew. But it didn't change the strangeness creeping through her veins like poisoned tendrils.

Eugene was still huddled on the ground, his hands covering his face. Mason knelt by his side and gently tried to pry them away, but he just shook his head.

That was when she saw the blood, a thick sheet of it running down his arm from the cut on his neck.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, pressing her hands against it to stymie the bleeding.

Eugene didn't seem to notice or care. He was _sobbing_ , so hard he could barely catch his breath. He curled in on himself like he was caving in and she felt stung by the sight of it, the pitiful, heartbreaking shape of him.

Blinking tears from her eyes, she scrambled for Eugene's scarf, lying a few feet away, and tied it around the wound. It wasn't fatally deep, but even so, her hands were covered in his blood.

"Hey," she whispered, cradling him to her chest. "I'm here, love. I'm here. Look at me."

He lowered his hands only slightly, enough that she could glimpse his eyes, one of them swollen shut and the other bright with tears.

"You should've let him..." he whimpered.

She stiffened. "What?"

"You should've let him kill me."

Abruptly her rage returned, but... It was not the same.

There was no heat to it anymore. Only endless, unyielding cold.

"No," she growled and hugged him tightly, pressing her lips to his head while he cried. And when he had cried himself out, when he was stable enough to rise to his feet, she did not feel as though she was there with him. Not entirely.

She was someplace desolate, miles away from the world.

 **Eugene**

He was hollow. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, just...void.

After the disastrous reunion, Daryl and the rest of his family had returned with Ezekiel to the Kingdom. Daryl hadn't stayed long, returning with the Misfits after a few hours to report that they had told Eugene and Mason's story, every last bit of it.

Mason...hadn't seemed impressed by this. He recognized the anger in her eyes, in the way she held herself, but he also recognized that something about it had changed.

Eugene himself had merely nodded, too exhausted to feel relieved or nervous or _anything_.

Needless to say, it was not the way they'd hoped their victory would play out.

Now he, Mason, Daryl and the Misfits remained in the Sanctuary, to keep an eye on their prisoners and scavenge the grounds for supplies. Renee had already bandaged the cut on his neck; any deeper, she'd said, and he would have needed stitches. She and the other Misfits stuck close to him, protective despite the fact that his attackers had left. Tanner and Charlie were livid about the whole thing, and Mason...she was so far beyond that he wasn't quite sure how to reach her.

Daryl was the only one who had remained relatively calm through the whole thing. Though he was clearly upset- making sure that Eugene was alright the moment he returned to the Sanctuary- he was able to see both sides of the situation.

"The hell were you thinkin' anyway?" he murmured now. He and Eugene were standing in the hall of what had once been a doctor's office, waiting for Mason, who was discussing provisions with Renee.

Daryl shook his head in exasperation, but his voice was gentle as he went on. "You knew the risks, man. Thought you and Mason had it all planned out."

Eugene glanced at his shoes- speckled with blood, just like the rest of his clothes. "Yes, well...you ever read _Of Mice and Men_? Best laid plans. I had a brief but acute lapse in judgment."

That was the understatement of the year. He'd forgotten how domineering his panic attacks could get, and the desperate measures he'd take just to end them.

"Hey." Daryl touched his arm. "We're gonna get past this."

"Eventually, yes," Eugene agreed, but mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Daryl eyed him like he saw right through that bullshit sincerity, but before he could say another word, Mason walked in.

Her eyes were so distant, like a wall had come down between her and the rest of the world. Still, when Eugene reached out to take her hand, those eyes softened a bit.

Daryl nodded to them. "I'll be right outside if ya'll need me."

They stepped into one of the examination rooms. The familiar trappings- though less aseptic than the ones he remembered from childhood- made him feel clammy with unease. Not an ounce of that showed on his face, however, because he and Mason were not alone.

Negan whistled from his place on the floor, chained to the piping of a small sink.

"You look like someone took time out of their day to put it in reverse and run over you twice," he said to Eugene, grinning in an exhausted, ironic way. Like the level of fucked he was had suddenly made everything seem grimly amusing.

"You look good though, doll," he continued, winking at Mason. "Death suits you."

"I doubt it will suit you quite so well," Mason replied coolly.

Negan coughed a laugh. "Is that why you came to see me? I'm disappointed. I expected a little more pizzazz from you two. _Vigilantes of the apocalypse_ and all that crap."

"We haven't decided what to do with you yet," Mason said, playing casually with her shirt sleeve. "The Kingdom is discussing it with the Saviors that agreed to comply. That's the only reason I haven't started carving you yet."

"Turncoats, you mean. That sound familiar, Eugene?" Negan's eyes glittered cruelly. "I'm gonna go ahead and guess that things didn't go over quite as swimmingly as you'd hoped with the Alexandrians. It was just way too fucking easy to turn them against you."

Eugene stilled, but he kept his face expressionless. "Pardon?"

Negan's grin widened into something utterly Cheshire. "You know, people under constant duress are... _pliable_. Take away their food, their light, kiss 'em with a size twelve boot, and they're like fucking putty. They start grasping at anything you offer 'em. They eat lies up like chocolate bars."

The yawning void inside of him began to fill with foreboding. Mason ground her teeth, her eyes like chips of ice.

"Enough with the ambiguity, prick," she growled, "or I cut out your tongue."

"Drastic, wifey," Negan clucked, arching his brows in mock surprise. "We haven't seen each other in months, I'm just trying to catch you up to speed. For instance, Eugene, did you know that you sold Mason to me for a place in my inner circle? A bit cold-blooded, if you ask me, but after the Spencer incident, Rick and the gang seemed more than willing to believe it."

His throat tightened, repulsed by the thought. "You told them...I _sold_ Mason..."

"Yep, gave me exclusive rights to...park in her garage? Do people still say that? Oh, but that's not the best part, mudflap- is it still mudflap now that you have short hair?" He shrugged, unconcerned with the fury blossoming on Mason's face. "You can cut the mullet from the man, but you can't cut it from his spirit, am I right?"

Mason took a step forward and Eugene caught her arm; it was hard-muscled, warm, under his fingers, but the violence in her stance was frigid.

"What else?" she demanded through her teeth.

"How about this? That he- _of his own volition_ \- cut off Daryl's hand? Helped plan the downfall of Alexandria? Right before his untimely demise, I mean. _That_ right there was the real home run, I think. Jesus, I wish you could've seen Rick's face when I told him... You see, because you were lonely, right, mudflap? And despite giving her to me, you missed Mason. You _wanted_ her, are you catching my drift? So one night, you had her- without her permission or mine."

Eugene swayed a little. He wasn't keeping the horror from his face anymore if Negan's triumphant expression was anything to go by. Now it was Mason who grabbed him by the arm, holding him up.

His family...they'd thought...they thought he'd-

"I had to kill you for that, of course," Negan went on. "You took _my_ war-wife, after all. But Mason..." He _tsk_ ed, as though he were genuinely disappointed. "Poor thing just couldn't handle it. Blew her brains out. A bit dramatic, maybe, but man. Those little piggies ate. It. Up. Trauma is a hell of a drug."

"You son of a bitch," Mason whispered, and it couldn't have been more menacing if she'd screamed.

"Hey, what else was I supposed to say? You two bounced. Can't say it was a welcome wake up call- a real ding dong ditch, if we're baring balls here. But once I started hearing stories about the Reaper and the Chemist...I started telling stories of my own. Call it covering my bases. I didn't know for _certain_ it was you two. But the looks on their faces... That kid, Carl? He looked like he was gonna ralph-"

Mason lunged, her knife suddenly in hand. Eugene only barely managed to yank her back, but not before she slashed Negan's cheek.

Negan hissed. "That all you got, bitch?"

"I was aiming for your eye!" Mason snarled, fighting to free herself from Eugene's grip.

"You gonna do to me what you did to Simon? Go right ahead," Negan snarled back.

" _I'm gonna peel your skin from your bones, you sick fuck_!"

But Negan just laughed, threw his head back like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"So," he said. "The world made you a monster, too."

Mason flinched as though she'd been struck. She stopped struggling in Eugene's arms. Her eyes were wide, desolate things.

Negan's gaze sharpened mercilessly, sensing that he'd struck a nerve. "I saw the things you did to my men. Horrible responsibility, isn't it? Turning those obscene impulses into greater good? You did it all in the name of what you thought was right- but you're still a calamity."

Mason swallowed convulsively. "That's not-"

"You waited _so long_ to rescue your people. And look at you! Well-fed, strong, just as frustratingly fuckable as ever- a little unfair in comparison, don't you think? And did it _excite_ you, seeing all those men kneeling at your feet? You get off on that now? Boy, I'll tell you, doll: not all monsters are gods, but all gods are monsters."

Tears welled in Mason's eyes, and at the sight of them, something in Eugene snapped.

"Enough," he growled. "May, step outside. Negan and I need a few minutes alone."

Mason blinked. "What are you gonna do?"

Eugene smiled a little- an amazing feat, considering the fury beating in his blood. It filled the wretched hole from before, filled him head to toe with savage heat. He wondered if Mason's fire had felt like this.

Tenderly he kissed her forehead. "I assure you, I will not do anything rash." Probably.

Mason looked doubtful. And devastated. Negan had found that weak spot and just _twisted_ his knife in...

"We'll be outside if you need us," she said. Eugene waited until the door closed behind her before turning back to Negan.

"We need a few minutes alone, huh?" Negan said. "I'm just gonna tell you now that I'm really not into you like that. I mean, even if I were a woman. You ain't making any top ten lists, you know?"

Prodding to find Eugene's own weak spots. But Eugene did not feel weak. He felt abruptly and frighteningly untouchable.

"Did you know," he said, peeking through the drawers and cupboards to see what he was working with, "that I can make bullets?"

Negan narrowed his eyes, bemused by the change in subject. "Is that so?"

"I am the Chemist. I can make whatever the hell I want."

"It's that simple, huh?"

"Oh, yes, very simple. Ice cream and pie."

There was very little in the way of medical supplies- likely the majority of their provisions had burned along with the rest of the first Sanctuary, and they hadn't had the chance to build up their cache. But several bottles of rubbing alcohol caught his eye, as well as a worn plastic bowl, three jugs of water and a container of rock salt, all of which he laid out on the counter.

"How do you think we escaped that night?" he continued. "How exactly did you think I was able to take out the guards at the armory, armed to the teeth as they were? They would have likely killed or seriously injured me had I tried it with any other weapon. I needed a gun- or rather, I needed a _bullet_ seeing as you thought me too ineligible to carry a loaded gun."

He turned, appraising Negan's rigid form. "Your arrogance is unparalleled. I carried that bullet into the compound with me, right under your nose. Right in the palm of my hand. You never suspected a thing."

"But you didn't have the balls to use it on me?" Negan snorted. "You pussies are all the same."

"That wasn't cowardice, Negan," Eugene replied, pouring some of the water into the bowl and then a measurement of alcohol. "That was calculation. Killing you wouldn't have changed a thing. Surrounded as we were in the heart of your domain, killing you would have only meant a change in leadership. It may seem small to you, using that bullet to take down a few guards, but a butterfly is also small, and can instigate hurricanes."

"Jesus fuck- what are you babbling about, you fucking freak show?" Negan snapped.

Quick as a wink, Eugene grabbed a handful of the rock salt and knelt at Negan's side.

"Perhaps if you listened without interrupting, I could arrive at my conclusion," he said, then patted the salt into the cut on Negan's cheek.

" _Fuck_ ," Negan spat, jerking against his chains.

Eugene held up his knife. And that fire inside of him, so different from his earlier despair...that fire screamed to dig the knife in deep, to dig until the blade hit bone, and then _twist_ -

"I will create more wounds for every future interruption," he said. "And I will salt each one. Understand?"

Negan's face was truly something to behold. "Go on with your pointless story then."

"Oh, I promise it's not," Eugene replied. He grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the counter, and then the bowl of solution. "What I'm trying to tell you is that you don't need an empire of wolves to topple the unjust. Just good intentions as sharp as the blade you gut with. Or in this case, a precisely ciphered bullet."

Without warning, he doused Negan with the alcohol.

"What the fuck-" Negan spluttered, trying vainly to scramble out of range.

"You underestimated us, and that was a mistake," Eugene continued, tossing the bottle when it was empty. Then he knelt again, eye level with Negan. The fire burned so brightly within him he was almost surprised it didn't ignite the ethyl fumes.

"But you fucked with my family," he said, in a voice like molten steel. "You killed and tortured the people I love. You cut the hand off of my brother. You forced Mason to kneel to you."

Without looking away from Negan, he dipped his hand in the alcohol water. Then with his other hand he pulled out his lighter.

"You did all this, and then you had the audacity to call _her_ a monster. You had the absolute and unrivaled stupidity to hurt her in front of _me_. That was your downfall. _She_ is a star this shit universe does not deserve, she is a treasure, and _you_ , you dickless fuck- you tried to break her."

He flicked the lighter and touched the fire to his hand. The solution ignited immediately, blue flames licking across his palm, his fingers, without burning him.

Negan blinked in shock. "The fuck..."

"The water provides a layer of insulation for my skin," Eugene explained, admiring the blaze. "But _you_ would burn, and I imagine it would be quite painful. Nowhere near enough for all you've done, however."

He hovered his hand close to Negan's face, watching his eyes widen, his muscles tense. He said nothing, he did not beg, but he was afraid all the same.

It would be so easy to set him on fire, to watch him writhe in torment... And it still would not be enough.

After a moment, the fire dwindled. Negan sagged a bit.

"I promised I wouldn't kill you," Eugene said, pocketing the lighter in exchange for his knife. "Not yet, at least. I just wanted you to be aware of all the options at my disposal. I've had a lot of time to consider just how exactly to bring you to justice. You see, Mason may be the Reaper. She may be the fighter, the leader of armies, the angel of death, but _I_ am the liar. I am a born-again coward, and those are the dangerous kind. Those are the ones you need to watch out for because my fear trained me to be ruthless, my fear made me intimately familiar with calculation and heartlessness. I am the knife in the dark, I am the poison in your whiskey, and _you fucked with my family_. You want a monstrous god? Here I am."

Eugene brought the knife to Negan's right ear.

The fire in his chest roared in satisfaction when Negan began to scream.

 **Mason**

Nothing about the Kingdom had changed since the last time she'd been there, but everything felt different. A stranger's world. Another life.

Ezekiel and Jerry greeted them at the gate, both of them frowning at the bouquet of bruises on Eugene's face. But neither said anything about it as they lead the Tiger's Three inside. The other Misfits had stayed at the Sanctuary to guard Negan and the prisoners, though they'd kicked up a fuss about it.

"What if they try fucking with Eugene again?" Tanner had demanded.

"Then I will deal with it," Mason had replied, and no one had argued with the darkness in her voice.

"They are waiting for you in the meeting room," Ezekiel said as he led them through the Kingdom. Knights, men and women she'd grown to know and care about, watched them pass with concern. Mason ignored them all.

"Should you need us, should any conflict arise that you feel you cannot defuse on your own, we will be right outside," he continued.

Mason nodded distantly. "Thanks."

He and Jerry exchanged a worried glance. She pretended not to notice.

Mason and Daryl stepped into the room first, angling themselves protectively in front of Eugene. Rosita, Sasha, Carol, Morgan and Maggie had positioned themselves around the room- another precaution. The Alexandrians were sitting around the same table where she had helped plan the overthrow of the Saviors. They'd had a chance to clean themselves up, to eat and receive medical attention, and they looked better.

But still haunted. Still hungry.

Mason looked away.

"You don't have to do that," Tara said. "We aren't going to hurt him."

Neither Mason nor Daryl relaxed. Mason was starkly aware of Eugene, looking thoroughly uncomfortable and eager to escape. The fiery confidence from yesterday, when he'd strode out of that office splattered in Negan's blood, was gone.

"I didn't kill him," he'd assured them cheerfully, and he hadn't- just left the bastard with a missing ear and more than a few salted wounds.

Today he was a different man. Today he was the shy, stumbling nerd she'd first met, which made her urge to shelter him that much more acute.

He was more terrified of his family than he ever had been of Negan. And that broke her heart.

After a pause, Michonne said, "You should sit down."

"We'll stand, thanks," Mason replied.

She saw everyone at the table straighten up at the sound of her voice. The new authority in it.

Rick eyed her for a moment before turning his gaze on Eugene. She went rigid immediately, but all he said was, "I'm sorry. I should've given you the chance to tell your side of the story."

There was a stiffness to his words, like he had to force them out, and Mason realized that despite hearing the truth, he remained suspicious of Eugene.

"That is entirely unnecessary, Rick," Eugene mumbled, fidgeting. "You thought I was...that I... Well, a-all things bein' equal, I don't blame you."

Apologetic. Like the whole thing was _his_ fault. Mason curled her lip and leveled Rick with a hard look.

"You know what we came to discuss," she said. "Let's get to that."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "Alright."

"When Daryl and the Misfits told our story, they also told you about California, correct?" Mason asked, though she knew already they had.

When Daryl had told her, all she'd managed to say was, "And what did they say to that?"

"It's outta left field, Mason," he'd replied. "They're just tryin' to take in the whole thing."

"They did," Rick said slowly, exchanging a glance with Michonne.

Mason nodded curtly. "Good. I don't know what you've discussed with Ezekiel so far, but I know that he is more than willing to take you all in- whether that's permanently, or just while we're away. Now I think-"

"Mason, wait," Michonne cut in, frowning. "What we've discussed is not staying behind. What we've discussed is going with you."

Mason went still. "...What?"

Maggie glanced at her, a strange, beseeching look on her face. "She's right," she said. "All of us have been talkin'. We've agreed to go to California."

"Well, er... _most_ of us," Aaron spoke up awkwardly.

Eric threw him a sharp glance. "We said we would talk about that later."

The Alexandrians watched this exchange with obvious distress, but Mason was too busy examining each worn face, and how weak they looked. It didn't matter who wanted to go and who didn't. They were _all_ too weak to make this road trip.

She shook her head. "No."

Michonne reached out, as if to placate her. "Mason-"

" _No_ ," Mason snarled. The Alexandrians drew back, and it struck her then, how much they'd missed. Not just all that she and Eugene had done to free themselves from the Saviors, not just their long journey back from nearly losing themselves, but the _change_ in her. She _was_ different. She had stepped up, become a leader, shouldered a weight she'd never dreamed she could.

And she... _she_ had missed so much, too. She had no idea what it had been like, trapped in that cell for months, no one but each other to rely on. She could only imagine the shadows that preyed on them now.

And it _hurt_. That disconnect between them. Negan, the Saviors, this war, everything dominating their world these past months, had forced them all to grow. The Alexandrians in their cage; Rosita, Sasha, Morgan, Carol and Maggie seeking refuge at the Kingdom; Mason, Eugene and Daryl with their Misfits. Each group had bonded through their shared trauma.

She hadn't considered it might mean growing apart. She hadn't thought of there being a rift between her and the Alexandrians at all.

She swallowed, hard. Agony ate a hole in her stomach, but her voice was icy as she went on.

"The Misfits and I have already planned this out, but we did not factor in enough provisions for a group this size," she said. "Not to mention that you're only in the barest stages of recovery. It would be negligent of me to bring you."

"Excuse me, _b_ _ring_ us?" Rick growled.

"It's _our_ mission," Mason shot back. "We never asked for your help."

"You didn't have to," Tara spoke up, raising her brows timidly. "I mean, isn't that what we do for each other?"

Mason ground her teeth. "If you came with us and anything happened to you, that would be on _me_."

"Well, that's a crock of shit," Carol said. She didn't flinch from the glare Mason threw her. " _We_ decide, Mason, what to do with our lives, and if that means making a stupid, dangerous journey to the other side of the country, then that's what we're gonna do. You don't decide for us."

Part of her wished she could. Part of her wished she could _force_ them to stay here, where they were safe...

 _So. The world made you monster, too._

She blanched.

She was not Negan. She was not him.

"Why?" she demanded, unable to meet any of their gazes. "Why would you even want to do this?"

The Alexandrians glanced at each other, but it was Maggie who spoke up.

"Because we can't stay here, Mason," she said, and there were tears in her eyes, tears in her quavering voice. "Can't you see that? This is where we lost our _home_. This is where we lost-"

 _Glenn. Abraham._

She didn't say their names and nobody rushed to say them, either. It was heavy enough. Maggie stood for a moment with her head in her hands, crying silently. Sasha laid a hand on her shoulder, murmuring something Mason couldn't catch.

There was that disconnect again. Mason hadn't been there to comfort Maggie after Glenn's death, to mourn with her.

 _That's not your fault,_ Glenn said quietly. She ignored him.

After a moment, Maggie drew herself up, wiping at her eyes. "There's nothin' here for us anymore," she said. "We can't stay. _I_ can't stay. I just want to go someplace...where when I look around, I don't see us kneelin'."

Everyone flinched.

"Where I don't see us fightin' and bleedin' and losin' ourselves to some monster with a baseball bat. I want to go someplace where I can believe in happy endings again," Maggie went on. "I think we all want that. And I think we all know that isn't here anymore."

Nobody disagreed. In the sudden quiet, Mason glanced at Daryl.

In his eyes she saw the ghost of that cell they'd been locked in together, felt his arms around her while they fought just to hang on, heard him crying while she sang the shadows away.

Then she turned to Eugene.

He said nothing, but she saw it on his face. They _couldn't_ stay. She'd been lying to herself thinking that they could ever make a home here. That wasn't an option anymore, not after everything. That was a dream now.

 _"Things have changed. What you had going for you? That's all over."_

Yes, it was.

She closed her eyes. She was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of it all.

"Fine," she murmured. "We'll have another look at the plan, see what all we'll need to make this work."

Without another word, she grabbed Eugene's hand and led him out the door.

 **Eugene**

A few days had passed since Alexandria revealed they wanted to make the journey. They hadn't needed to scrounge up extra provisions after all; Ezekiel had provided in kind. Though he'd declared he needed no repayment for the bounty- a box truck full of food, water and fuel, as well as one of the school buses- Mason and Eugene had insisted.

So Eugene had spent what time he had at his disposal teaching the Kingdom how to make bullets.

"You will have a leg up on anyone else who might challenge you," he'd told them. "Not to mention the bartering potential. Lead is the currency of the new world."

All the rest of his time, however, was devoted to last minute preparations for the trip- drawing up a new map (the first had gone missing and no one had any idea where it might have gotten to) and delegating the Misfits in Mason's absence. She spent a lot of her time with Sherry and the other wives, working on the List- an inventory of all surviving Saviors. Since the wives had extensive knowledge on who each Savior was and what they had done, they were compiling the list to divvy out punishments. To decide who was to be offered a second chance, and who was to be executed.

Eugene had offered to take this role instead, but Mason was quick to nix the suggestion.

"I'm the Reaper," she'd growled. "This is part of my job description, isn't it?"

He couldn't help a growing sense of panic the further she drifted away from everyone. But no matter how desperately he tried, he could not reach her. She refused to let him.

His thoughts drifted to her now as he inventoried the box truck, the third time he'd done this- partly to be absolutely certain of a correct count, partly to keep his mind occupied. It wasn't working at all, however, as he was so distracted worrying over Mason that he didn't notice Carl until he cleared his throat.

"Hey, Eugene-"

"Jesus!"

Eugene jumped, knocking over a box of canned goods. Carl stared at him, a faint smile on his face.

"Oh, sorry," he said, trying and failing to look contrite.

Eugene scowled. "Say that to me with a straight face."

Carl tried to frown, but he couldn't stop his lips from twitching. After a moment, Eugene shook his head.

"I wouldn't be playing poker any time soon if I were you."

"Well, maybe you could give me a few pointers."

Right. Because he was the resident liar.

Carl seemed to realize what he had said, because he coughed awkwardly and bent to help pick up the spilled cans.

"So you make bullets now?" he said after a moment.

"Yes, sir," Eugene replied, though he found he couldn't quite look at Carl as he did so. He had not found relief in reuniting with them, as he'd hoped. He still pictured their faces that day with Spencer.

"That's so awesome," Carl said. "Are you going to teach me?"

Eugene blinked. "You want to make bullets?"

"Well...I just thought it'd be a cool way to continue our science lessons. Practical application and all that."

He had to look up at that. Just a little bit.

"Science lessons?"

"Yeah, you know- the study of nerd stuff?"

"I just...you want me to continue teaching you?"

Carl smiled gently. "You said you would when you got back, right? I can brag that I was taught by the Chemist himself."

Eugene's vision blurred a little at the edges. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Thank you for fighting for us," Carl replied. It took Eugene by surprise when he swept him into a hug. "Things are different now. But you're still family."

Eugene held him tight for a moment, more grateful than he could hope to vocalize. Then he cleared his throat and wiped his tears off on his sleeve, trying to be discreet about it.

"Stop tryin' to get me emotional, kid," he said gruffly. "It's not going to work."

"Sorry, teach. Oh, hey, you know what?" Carl stepped back to grin at him. "I just thought of this today. You went from the _mullet_ guy to the _bullet_ guy. Ha. Get it?"

"Oh, son, _no_..." Eugene sighed in mock disappointment. "You know, if you tell that one to Mason, she will giggle for a week straight."

"If I tell it to Mason you'll still be hearing it when you're eighty."

"Dear god..."

 **Mason**

Negan raised an eyebrow when she stumbled into the exam room, gripping a bottle of whiskey. It splashed down her arm as she caught herself against the door frame and grumbled under her breath about gravity.

"Little tanked-up, are we, wifey?" he said. His voice was strained, his face covered in sweat; clearly his wounds were still bothering him.

"Shut the fuck up or I smash this bottle on your face," she slurred, slipping down to the floor next to him. She took another long sip, whiskey dripping down her chin.

Negan watched her with wide eyes. "Any special reason we're on the juice tonight?"

"Oh, yeah. Finally decided what's gonna happen to _you,_ hubby. I'm pretty fucking ecstatic. I could pound a gallon of jet fuel right now."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Hell no. I ain't here to tell secrets."

"Then why are you here, Reaper?"

"Because we're both monsters, right?"

"Ah." Negan nodded. "So you came to spend your evening with a kindred spirit, that's sweet. But what would your precious Chemist think of you visiting me?"

"He doesn't know," Mason replied. She'd taken great pains not to wake him when she'd snuck out of bed. She didn't want him worrying about her anymore than he already was. "And no way in hell you're a kindred spirit. You're more like a...parallel demon."

"You're real funny when you're drunk, doll."

She took a swig from the bottle.

"You made me a monster."

She didn't mean to say it, didn't mean to let the agony bleed into her voice, but she was drunk. She was drunk, trying desperately to fill the void inside her, to reignite the fire from before.

But nothing flickered in her, nothing came to life. She was cold, empty, desolate. A charred wasteland, taken over by winter.

"Oh, doll..." Negan said, and the gentleness in his expression, the sympathy there, was hideous. "That was in you from the start. I just peeled back the layers a bit."

Mason stared at him for a moment.

Then she spat in his face.

He huffed. "You shouldn't get so defensive, sweetheart. Take pride in who you really are, own that shit. You make a better Reaper than an angel."

Clumsily she rose to her feet. The bottle slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor. It didn't matter. Everything was broken now anyway.

"I guess I'll be seeing you in hell one day," she said, staggering over the mess. The hollowness in her chest ached like a physical wound, like frostbitten skin.

"I just came to say goodbye until then."

 **Eugene**

Mason gripped his hand tight enough to hurt as Daryl and Jerry dragged Negan out in front of the crowd. Eugene brushed his thumb in little circles over her wrist, trying to soothe the frantic pulse beneath. But her eyes were wide and shadowed, her face pale, and she trembled a little as Negan was forced to his knees, as though she couldn't help it.

But then she pulled her hand from Eugene's and he saw the moment when she decided to become a lie. To steel her spine and rearrange her features into one of unfeeling winter.

She strode forward until she stood before Negan, who smiled at her despite the pain limning his features.

"Hello, Reaper," he said.

She stared him down, and for a moment it was as though they were alone.

"Hello, Negan," she said quietly. Then she raised her voice as she continued, became the leader the Kingdom knew her as. "Your retribution has been decided, voted on by council."

"Well, by all means, doll, don't hold back," Negan replied. Never losing that smile.

"You ruled your empire as a dictator, in complete and cruel disregard for every individual's inherent right to decide their own path. You called yourself their Savior while shamelessly beating them into submission, stealing and coercing and killing as you saw fit. You raped their free will. The only just punishment to your tyranny is to put you at the mercy of those who suffered in your shadow, to have _them_ decide."

Negan's smile turned sardonic. "So you haven't _really_ come to a decision."

Mason's eyes narrowed. "No, we have. You will be left as a prisoner to your former wives, to live or die when and how they see fit." She leaned toward him, her eyes glinting like ice. "So if they decide to stick you in a cell and let you waste to nothing, then that is what will happen. If they decide they want to skewer you like a pig and roast you over a fire, then that is what will happen. If they decide they want to beat you into the ground with baseball bats, then batter up."

"And what about you, doll? Where do you put yourself in that scenario?"

Eugene stiffened, the bloodlust roaring in his veins. He had agreed when they'd voted that this was fair, this was just. But in his head when he'd imagined this, it had always been _him_ ending Negan.

Mason hesitated for only a moment.

"As a former _wife_ ," she said, spitting out the word like acid, "I think I'd have to go for the baseball bats."

Negan grinned, flashing his teeth. "Yeah. You're still a calamity."

Eugene jerked forward, fully intending to skin the bastard alive, damn the agreement. But Dray and Ashlee held him back, and it was the wives who stepped from the crowd, those that remained after the uprising. Sherry was in their lead, looking more _here_ than she had since Dwight's death. Her eyes were flint as she stalked forward.

Mason backed away, allowing them to surround Negan. He watched her go, his gaze intense, before looking at Sherry.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said. "Did you like the gift I left for you? I think he was a definite improvement over what he looked like before."

This time it was Daryl who lurched forward, lips drawn in a snarl. Mason laid a hand on his chest, murmuring quickly and urgently, while Jerry tugged him back.

But Sherry was in complete control. Eugene couldn't tell if she'd expected Negan to taunt her, or if she was just too numb to care.

"You're gonna look real different when I'm done with you, too," she said.

The crowd watched as the wives dragged him away. Some of them cheered. Some of them waited.

Mason looked sick, staring after them like she was lost. Ignoring their prior agreement, Eugene made a beeline to her.

Her eyes widened in protest. "No," she hissed. "I told you to stay in the crowd."

"Yes, I remember," he replied and took her hand. "And I am choosing to disregard it."

"I don't want you to be a part of this."

"Too bad."

He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what she was doing, sparing him from the weight, from staining his hands with more blood. But they had started this war together. They would end it together.

"You are the Reaper, May," he said and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "But that does not mean you have to do this alone."

Tears welled in her eyes. She took a deep breath and blinked them away.

"Alright," she murmured. Then she turned to Jerry and Daryl. "Bring the first one out."

One by one, the Saviors who had made the List were led in front of the crowd. Some of them cried. Some of them fought. Some of them remained silent.

Mason and Eugene took turns, reading their names and their crimes, before shooting them in the head.

And it was terrible. It was different than killing them in the heat of battle. It was different than that night, a lifetime ago, when Alexandria had snuck into that Savior outpost, and he could _feel_ the weight of his own actions piling up on his shoulders.

By the end of it, they were both trembling.

But they never let go of each other's hand.

 **Mason**

Shiva let out a long, low rumble as Mason massaged behind her ears.

"I'm gonna miss you, pretty girl," she murmured. "Maybe I'll find a little striped cat out on the road and name her after you."

"Why am I not surprised to find you here?" came a familiar voice.

She didn't look up as she replied dully, "Why am I not surprised that you're creeping up behind me like some big, fucking-"

"Hey, now," Ezekiel chided gently, sitting down next to her. "I come offering farewell sweets and you curse at me?"

He held out a pomegranate. She just stared at it.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

"Eugene says you haven't eaten in two days."

She blinked, frowning. "He told you that?"

"He is concerned for your health. We all are."

"Don't be. I'm fine, I'm just not hungry."

Of course at that moment her stomach decided to let out a pointed grumble, and she gritted her teeth.

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but Mason cut him off.

"If you say one more thing about me eating, I will get up and leave right now."

"You are not yourself, Lady Death," he replied just as sharply.

She barked a laugh. "How do you know? What if this is really me?"

"I know it's not."

Mason threw him a look, but before she could offer a retort, something cleared in his expression. Relaxed.

"You can't bullshit a bullshitter, Mason," he said, in a voice so different, so _normal_ , that everything she'd been prepared to say dissolved.

"I- you...your voice-" she stammered.

Ezekiel grinned, his eyes glimmering good-naturedly. "You didn't think that was _actually_ how I talked, did you? Like, I was _born_ with encyclopedic mysticism? Fresh out the womb and I start reciting Shakespeare? Shit, can you imagine." He laughed.

She blushed. "I mean...not exactly. But- I guess I thought you'd been King for so long that you just... _were_ King now."

"I became what my people needed me to be, that's true." He shrugged. "And it doesn't hurt that I have a tiny flair for the dramatic."

"A _tiny_ flair?"

He chuckled. "So I'm a bit of a diva. But I like to think I have a good heart."

"You do."

Better than her own.

Ezekiel's expression softened. "You do, too."

She winced. It wasn't possible to harbor such violence inside, to have committed such atrocities, and still have a good heart.

"You may have been forced to do some dark shit, but any idiot could see how deeply you love your family. You did all that shit _for_ them," Ezekiel continued. "So why aren't you out there with them now?"

Some of the Alexandrians had decided to stay here in the Kingdom, Aaron and Eric among them.

"We grew up in Virginia, we lived our whole lives here," Aaron had explained. "I just...can't imagine leaving, even after everything."

Everyone was saying their goodbyes now- the Alexandrians to those they were leaving behind, and the Kingdom to Mason's army. And there was a part of her that knew she should be with them, that yearned to be, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to do it.

 _Coward._

Ezekiel grabbed her hands, jolting her from her thoughts. "Do you know why I like you so much, Mason?" he said. "Because I see myself in you."

"Whoa, there, Narcissus."

His eyes twinkled. "I may have a touch of vanity, but I'm not going to drown staring at my reflection anytime soon," he said. "No, what I _meant_ was, even with as great as my life is here, there's an inherent separation between me and everyone else. I _have_ to play King, they expect it. Now I'm not saying I don't enjoy making them feel safe- I'm happy when they're happy. But sometimes...it can get lonely.

"Then _you_ came along, and I could tell you were the same. Willing to play whatever role you had to for your people. Happy to make _them_ happy."

He paused to touch one of the feathers tied to his dreadlocks.

"You know what it's like to feel isolated in your role. The secrets surround you like walls..." He paused for a moment to untie the feather from his hair. When it was free, he smiled. "But there _are_ windows."

She blinked, remembering that afternoon they'd spent out in the woods, what he'd said.

 _We think we are trapped in the darkness._

"We forget about the windows," she murmured.

He nodded, his fingers gentle as he began braiding the feather into her hair. When he was done, he leaned back to examine his work. Curiously she raised an eyebrow.

"So that you never feel like you're flying solo," he explained with a wink.

"Nice one." Lightly she stroked the feather. "But you know, you...you get to be a King. I'm the _Reaper_. I mean...I don't know if you know this, but the Reaper is not typically portrayed in, um, a friendly light."

Ezekiel touched her chin, lifting her head so that she was looking at him.

"Never be ashamed of who you are, Mason," he said. "You are a queen, _and_ you are a good person."

Then he smiled, and when he spoke again, his voice had changed back to that of the King.

"The Reaper is kind."

Mason let out a tiny, hopeless laugh. "The Reaper- _d_ _eath_ is not kind. Death _takes_. Death is a conqueror."

 _(Like Negan.)_

"Nothing in existence is wholly black and white. I have seen miracles born of death, and tragedies born of life. Like a corpse gives itself over to the growth of gardens." He tucked the feather behind her ear. "Death conquers the new world, yes, but she always provides a rebirth for the good and the righteous."

Again he held the pomegranate out to her.

"My people are going to miss you," he said. "It would break their hearts, missing the opportunity to say goodbye before you took your leave."

After a moment's hesitation, she took the fruit. "Thank you, your Majesty," she said and jumped off the stage.

Ezekiel bowed his head, reaching out to scratch Shiva's chin. "Any time, my Lady."

Without another word, she hurried out of the theater, her heart constricting in her chest.

Things weren't the same. They weren't going to be the same, and there was _so much darkness_ to sort through, so much of it gumming up her own heart.

Maybe Ezekiel was right about her, or maybe Negan was. Maybe they both were.

But whoever she was now, whoever she had become, the ones she loved still meant everything to her. And she hated goodbyes, but not getting the chance to at all? She hated that more.

The crowd was happy to see her. The Kingdom thanked her for all she had done and some offered parting gifts. One little girl gave her a finger-painting of Mason's vague likeness in bright, rainbow colors and she had to fight not to let her tears show.

She got to say goodbye to the Alexandrians staying behind, and it was different but it was okay.

When she hugged Eric goodbye, he teased her through his tears. "Please, please, _please_ , for the love of god and your own well-being, take cooking lessons from Eugene and Carol."

When she hugged Aaron goodbye, he rested his chin on her head and said, "Thank you for not killing me that day in the barn. I know you absolutely could've. And thank you for coming with me. For coming home."

And then

and then it was time to go.

Her eyes flickered wildly, taking a mental tally to make sure they weren't leaving anyone behind that they didn't mean to.

But everyone was there, all twenty-six that made up the caravan: everyone in Mason's army, as well as Rick and Michonne, Carl and Enid, Gracie and Judith, Tara and Denise, Heath and Gabriel, Sherry and Jesus.

The last two had surprised her, but they both seemed committed to the journey.

"The Hilltop isn't home anymore, and in any case, I've made some good friends among your people," Jesus had explained, which was true; he and Rosita, in particular, were absolute bros. "Except for you, sweetheart, I like everyone in this group." Then he'd winked and patted her on the shoulder.

Sherry had merely looked at her with dead eyes and said, "There's nothing here for me anymore." Mason hadn't had the nerve to ask about Negan, what Sherry had or hadn't done to him.

Yes, everyone was there, loading into their vehicles and crying and calling out goodbyes like they couldn't stop, and Jerry was waving to her like he'd done the first day they'd met, and Ezekiel was there with Shiva, both of them looking utterly regal, and everything was blurry and there was salt on her lips, and she _hated_ goodbyes, she _hated_ them-

But then Eugene's hand was in hers, and he was planting a kiss on her temple, murmuring that it was time to go.

So she climbed into the truck with him, Daryl sitting on her other side, the Misfits gathered in the truck bed. Everyone waved farewell as they led the caravan out of the gate, and she watched until the Kingdom disappeared completely among the trees.

She watched until long, long after.

 **Alpha**

Murph slouched, exhausted, in a chair across from her. She was in a hospital bed, she was...

She was in a hospital.

She blinked several times, though the effort made her dizzy. Her eyelids felt heavy, scratchy, hot. She watched an IV drip fluid into her arm, and could've sworn she _felt_ that fluid enter her vein, swim its way into her bloodstream...

Her stomach flipped.

Weakly, she leaned over the side of the bed and vomited.

The sound startled Murph out of sleep. He scrambled halfway out of the chair before realizing it was just her, and then he loosed a breath.

"You're awake," he said.

"Obviously," she croaked. God, her throat was dry. "How long have I been out?"

"It's been touch and go for three days."

"Three fucking _days_?" she said, trailing off into a hacking cough. The wound in her side throbbed with every movement.

"Well, Miss, in addition to the infection, you also ingested quite a bit of blood from the undead," Murph explained. "It made you violently ill, which only exacerbated your condition. Blood poisoning, not to mention whatever gastrointestinal poisoning from eating cold bodies... You're lucky you pulled through at all."

Alpha blinked, slowly sorting through the haze in her brain. She remembered the fever eating through her common sense, forcing her outside, where she'd seen her mother-

She flinched. Not really there. She couldn't have been there, her mother was dead.

She remembered dream, of the beach and the grave marker and Mason...

She lurched up in her bed. "The Reaper," she rasped. What had happened in the time she'd spent, sick and unconscious?

"I've been keeping tabs," Murph said, looking a bit uneasy. "They brought the Saviors to their knees."

Alpha was surprised by the rush of ferocious pride that filled her. So Death had conquered after all. And Negan... She hadn't delivered the killing blow herself, but she had helped orchestrate his downfall, and that was better than nothing.

"They...are leaving."

For just a moment, Alpha didn't process his words.

Leaving?

 _Leaving_?

"... _What_?"

Murph fidgeted, clearly fearing retribution despite the fact that she doubted she could stand without him holding her up.

"They're going to California, Miss."

She stared at him.

"Fucking _California_?" she thundered. Or tried to thunder, though her voice remained infuriatingly wispy. "Why in the hell would they go there?"

"I'm not sure, something to do with those new additions- Miss!"

Murph scrambled to his feet as Alpha tried unsuccessfully to lift herself out of bed. Her limbs shook with the effort, sweat dewing on her forehead. The IV tipped over, yanking painfully on her arm though the needle stayed in place.

"We have to go. Now," she growled. "We have to follow them."

"Miss, you're too weak, you need to lay back down." Murph tried to ease her back into bed.

" _Don't fucking touch me,_ " she snapped at him, pushing feebly at him. "We need to follow them, you idiot, or do you just not understand what all this shit has been about?"

"I understand," he said quietly. "Do you trust me?"

She blinked. What the hell kind of question was that? She didn't fucking trust anyone.

"We need to go," she said and tried again to stand.

Murph, gently but firmly, pushed her back. "And we will," he said. "You're just not healthy enough yet."

Her lips curled in a snarl. She hated being so weak, resented it and him and everything. "We'll lose them. California's a big fucking place, it could take years, just the two of us. And what if they never even make it there? They could stop somewhere on the way and-"

She quieted as Murph raised a hand, though it was mostly because talking was beginning to feel a lot like running a marathon. Every breath was a struggle.

"We won't lose them," he said. As she watched, he pulled a lump of paper from his pocket and held it out to her.

"We have a map."


	18. Acid Rain

Hello, guys! Well, I was able to crank this chapter out pretty quick because it's fairly short but also pretty pivotal. The chapter song is "Acid Rain" by Lorn, which is such a heavy, atmospheric song, you really should listen to it (I owe you, DampishPoet, for introducing me to it). The song Mason references toward the end of the chapter is called "Fear of the Water" by SYML- also an emotional, atmospheric song that you should definitely give a listen. Thank you guys SO MUCH for your reviews and support, it always makes me so happy! I hope to have the next chapter out soon, but until then, let me know what you think!

18\. First Interim: Acid Rain

 **Alpha**

She woke from a dream of blood. Soaking in it, bathing in it. Even in the cold, gray light of dawn she could still taste it in the back of her throat, sharp-sweet and metallic.

Murph had everything ready to go. He'd spent the past few days clearing their path out of the hospital, section by section. It still astounded her that he'd managed to get _inside_ in the first place. Nothing short of a miracle, he'd attested, and she believed him.

Of course, he'd been surprising her a lot lately. Keeping up surveillance on Mason's army, stealing the map, abandoning his experiments to oversee her recovery in a hospital saturated with the undead. Sixty-eight years and he'd finally sprouted some balls.

She nodded to him as she crawled out of bed. Her head felt light, her side stiff, but she could finally walk without collapsing. At least, certain distances.

A week and a half they'd spent in the hospital, and she wasn't one hundred percent but she was tired of waiting. Murph had given her the green light to leave, although she would still require treatment while they traveled.

"Just so long as we're moving," she'd growled. The thought of Mason getting away from her...

It galled her, but she had to lean on Murph halfway out of the place. It took more out of her than she cared to admit, stumbling over the cold bodies he'd already taken down, but finally they made it to the ambulance bay. He'd had to tinker a bit to get one operational, but it was an undoubted upgrade from his shitty bumpkin truck.

Sprawled in the back of the ambulance, she lifted her shirt to examine the wound that was finally starting to heal properly.

"So when are you going to tell me what you did with those patients of yours?" she said, tracing her nail over the lesion. "You've been suspiciously closemouthed on the subject."

Murph's eyes flickered to hers in the rearview mirror. "Oh, that's...it wasn't an ideal thing, what happened..." he said nervously.

She snorted. "When has shit ever been ideal? C'mon, spill it."

"Well, I- I couldn't just let them go. I couldn't give them the opportunity to tell anyone what we're doing."

Alpha nodded. "Wise old man."

"Miss, I burned that shop down. With them inside."

Her fingers stilled. Murph's eyes flickered nervously to hers in the rearview mirror.

"They...screamed. I still hear them when I fall asleep."

Alpha stared hard at his reflection for a moment. Then she pursed her lips and nodded.

"Yeah, that doesn't go away."

 **Eugene**

He was drowning.

Waves tossed him ceaselessly, invading his every breath, choking him. He tried to call for help, for Mason, but the ocean refused to let him.

Helplessly he fought the violent waters, but his limbs were heavy, useless things, burning with the strain of staying afloat.

And...and it wasn't water anyway, was it? That was not just salt on his tongue, that was copper, that was iron-

Blood.

Thick crimson waves lapped at him, pulsing in time to some great, unseen heart. And he was not strong, he was not strong enough...

He began to sink.

Red consumed him. Red weighed him down, filled his lungs, buried him...

"Eugene?"

The voice was gentle and familiar, though it startled him hearing it here.

 _Beth?_

"I'm right here. We're all right here."

 _Who's we?_

She didn't answer, but he had the vague, comforting sensation of people surrounding him, holding him.

"We're gonna need you to fight for us, okay?"

It was Beth's voice, but underneath it, like echoes, there were others. Some of them he thought he recognized...

" _Fight_."

So he did, kicking his legs although he could no longer feel them, reaching blindly toward what he thought was the surface, choking on blood. And suddenly there was Beth, grabbing hold of his arms and tugging-

He jolted up, gasping for air. The waves were gone and there were stars above his head, and the warm night breeze kissing the sweat on his skin. There was Mason curled next to him, her expression pinched even in sleep. Gently he ran his fingers through her hair but did not wake her; this was the first night in a while that she'd agreed to sleep at all instead of taking watch.

Stifling a sigh, he got to his feet. He wasn't going to be able to relax. There was a lingering taste of blood in the back of his throat, though he knew that was just his imagination.

The campfire was still going, though it must have been close to three in the morning. Heath, Tara and Michonne were gathered around it, talking in hushed voices. Eugene hesitated, wringing his hands. Most of the bruising had faded and his nose had been reset, but every time he saw the Alexandrians he felt Rick's fist once more pummeling his face, heard his name in mouths that slavered for his blood...

 _Coward,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind. A voice that hadn't truly left him since reuniting with his family.

Clenching his jaw, he stepped out of the shadows and made his way toward the box truck, trying to appear nonchalant. Alexandria slept in the center of the group, tightly packed like snowflakes bunching together. Mason's army slept around them- her idea. The Alexandrians were recovering, but slowly; if they were incurred on in the night, Mason's army was better fit to handle it.

He tried to move quietly, retrieving a bottle of water from the truck and pretending his was nothing more than a wisp of shadow. But when he turned around, those gathered around the campfire were eyeing him, their expressions thorny with suspicion. Or at least, Heath and Michonne were. Tara just looked thoroughly uncomfortable- like she desperately, desperately wanted to believe that Eugene was still a good person despite all he'd done.

It didn't matter that Negan had spoon-fed them a crock of bullshit- he _had_ done terrible things.

A hand came down on his shoulder.

He startled, whirling around and slamming the hand away in a move Morgan had taught him-

A second before realizing that it was only Rick.

"Oh, shit," he breathed. "R-rick, I'm sorry-"

"What are you doing?"

Rick's glare was stony, no-nonsense. Eugene swallowed hard and held up his water bottle.

"Uh. Thirsty."

There was a moment of silence, in which Eugene felt the stares of the three by the campfire burning holes in the back of his neck. He wondered if Rick might try to break the rest of his face.

Finally, Rick said, "The rest of us are trying to sleep. Probably best you don't lurk around over here."

Eugene burned with shame, but before he could stammer out a reply, Dray and Charlie flanked him on either side.

"Is there a problem?" Dray said coolly. Charlie said nothing, but the fury in her eyes could have melted steel.

Rick cocked his head. "I don't know, you plan on making one?"

"There's no problem," Eugene said, sidling between them. "I- I should head back to Mason anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you should," Rick replied.

Charlie hissed through her teeth, obviously about to do or say something rash.

But Dray threw her an adoring smile and murmured, "Bloodshed? At this hour? I don't think so, cool breeze."

Rick's eyes flashed at the mention of bloodshed. A moment longer and it was going to dissolve into a fight, Eugene could feel it.

"C'mon, guys," he mumbled and hastily led them away.

Mason was still asleep where he'd left her, though he could tell that she'd noticed his absence, even in unconsciousness- her arm was flopped over the space where he'd been laying, her face set in a scowl. With a tired smile, he sat next to her and brushed his fingers through her hair until the scowl softened.

"How was she tonight?" Dray murmured. He and Charlie hunkered down across from Eugene. Both of their gazes were fixed on Mason, tight with worry.

"Well. She agreed to sleep," Eugene whispered back.

"She eat anything?" Charlie asked.

Eugene shook his head, trying to quell the panic bubbling in his chest. In the two weeks they'd been on the road, she'd taken to giving her food to the Alexandrians, eating only sparingly herself. Most nights she went hungry. And he knew it was the depression just as much as it was her instinct to take care of her people, but he thought...he thought maybe she was trying to punish herself, too. Trying to atone for some imagined sin, for not suffering with the rest of them in that cell.

He tried every day. He tried everything he could to take care of her, to get her to eat, to drink, to sleep. Every day it was a fight. Most days he lost.

"Give her time," Dray said. "She needs to heal. You both do."

Eugene shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps he was punishing himself, too. Picking at old wounds. Or rather, letting that _voice-_ so grotesquely, ruthlessly like his mother's- poke and prod and stab until he was raw.

But he didn't say this. Instead he nodded and murmured, "I suppose you are correct."

 **Alpha**

Murph tried to convince her that it was safer to sleep in the ambulance, but they spent _every day_ in that damn box. They argued routinely on the subject and Alpha always won, stretching out luxuriously under the stars wherever they happened to park that night.

She _needed_ nights, she needed to be a part of them. Days just felt so _fake_ lately, like images filtered from someone else's life. Nights were honest. Nights stripped the liars of their perfect day skin and demanded they be authentic.

She supposed that was why she asked the question, one night while Murph was cooking their dinner over a fire.

"Do you really think that this cure could ever fix anything?" she said. She wasn't looking at him when she said it, cleaning her fingernails with the splintered end of a rabbit bone, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed him pause.

"Well, that's why they call it a cure," he finally said.

She threw him a withering glance. "Yes, I'm aware of the semantics. I didn't mean fix the epidemic, I meant fix what we've become."

He stared into the fire for a moment, seeing things she couldn't. "Humanity has recovered from many tragedies, Miss. Genocide, war..."

" _We_ did those things. Maybe the reason we were able to recover from them is because we didn't really recover at all. Maybe we were just shit from the start."

"I'm sorry, but I just won't think that way," Murph said.

"So you think that if you somehow magically cure all of this, things will go back to normal? You think that _we_ could ever come back from what we've done?" Alpha snorted. "You're dreaming."

"Miss, if this is how you feel, why are you helping me at all?"

Alpha could tell he was trying to make himself sound more formidable, but he just came across as a grumpy old man in need of a nap.

"First off, we're helping each other," she said. "Trust me, this is not altruism, this is a symbiotic relationship. Second, _if_ a cure were even possible, then whoever had it would hold all the power. It's that simple. Don't tell me that didn't occur to you."

Murph fidgeted uneasily. "But that's not why I'm doing this..."

"Oh, what, you want to save the world? Well, you can go ahead and try, I won't be your Lex Luther. But everything comes for a price."

"Is that what _you_ want?" Murph said. "Power?"

The question brought her up short. Power? Was it that simple?

She thought of the Reaper, the smooth, composed movement of her body as she fought.

She thought of the Chemist, turning and setting Alpha on fire, completely out of nowhere.

It wasn't as simple as power.

She wanted control. She wanted chaos. The two were opposites and yet not mutually exclusive.

She wanted to drive through a rainy night with Mason, blasting music until the speakers cracked, taking the corners too fast and howling like wolves.

But she also wanted a place to return to when this rainy wild lost its luster, where people would gather weapons for her, kill for her, submit to her teeth and thighs.

She wanted it all on _her_ terms.

But power...implied a certain amount of obligation, of debt to those who paid that power. It wasn't quite as simple as that.

She wanted a world all her own.

She wanted freedom and fear.

But she smiled at Murphy, like he'd figured her out, and said, "Yes. That's what I want."

 **Mason**

"We'll have to clear it," Eugene sighed, peering out the windshield at a tangle of rusted metal that had once been cars. It was hard to tell how many, piled as they were on the highway before them, but there were quite a few. Just the sight of them flooded Mason with weariness.

"That could take all day!" Dave protested.

"It's either that or backtrack two days' time to an alternate route," Eugene growled. "I don't know what to tell you."

Mason watched them dully, ready to step in if she needed to. Everyone's tensions were running high. The journey had started out surprisingly smooth...and then one day they'd hit a roadblock, and they hadn't stopped hitting them since.

 _Not as easy as I made it look, is it?_ Abraham said loftily.

 _In no way, shape or form did you make it look easy,_ Mason replied, but even her thoughts were dull.

God, she was fucking exhausted.

"Alright," she said, before Dave and Eugene could start bitching at each other. "Let's get to work."

Dave might have tried to argue, but one look at her face had him thinking twice about it. The three of them climbed out of the truck and the other Misfits trailed after them. A pall of dejection hung over them, and Mason knew...Mason knew that part of it had to do with her, with how she'd been acting lately, but she couldn't summon enough energy to care. She was so _empty_ , cold as though her fire had never existed.

The war was over, and she had finally burned herself out.

Behind them, the others emerged from the school bus and Sherry and Daryl from the box truck. The rest of Mason's army automatically joined the Misfits, setting to work hooking chains onto the ruined cars.

After a while, Tara and Gabriel wandered up to her. Before either of them could speak, Mason growled, "No."

"Mason, we can help," Gabriel insisted. "We _should_ be helping."

"Ya'll still can't even walk long distances without getting winded," she replied, signaling to Eugene that she was finished with her chain. "Just stick by the bus."

"We're not invalids," Tara said. "We're doing a lot better."

"I said no. _We've_ got this."

Both of them blinked uncomfortably, and Mason knew they sensed that separation, too, the _them vs. us_ their group had become. After a moment, they let her be.

When they had gone, Eugene glanced at her over the cars and she stared back for a moment, neither of them needing to say anything.

It did indeed take hours, but by midday they a good three-fourths of the cars moved. The Alexandrians congregated by the bus, talking amongst themselves. Mason pretended she didn't notice.

"You can't patch a rift by ignoring it," Eugene murmured while they worked.

"I'm not sure this is a rift I can patch," Mason muttered. "Especially not when they keep looking at you like you shot the family dog."

He sighed. "You can't exactly blame them for-"

"Yes, the hell I can," she snapped. "They _know_ now, they _kn_ _ow_ what really happened, and they're still treating you like a fucking leper."

Eugene frowned in a way she recognized. He was thinking about Spencer again.

Mason huffed. "Look, it would've been hard enough to look past the reunion and Rick attacking you and this weird schism between our groups. But..."

She lowered her voice, catching him by the arm so that he would look at her.

"They made you want to _die_ , Eugene," she said, and trembled at the memory. "You wanted Rick to kill you that night. And maybe I could...deal with that...if I knew they accepted Negan's stories as bullshit but they obviously fucking _don't_."

"No, I think they do," Eugene said quietly. "But you...you weren't there that day, Mason, I didn't just kill Spencer, I _gutted him_. Alive. In front of all of them. And maybe I didn't have a choice, but it doesn't matter one iota because they _saw me do it_. So I suspect it is not so much that they believe Negan's bullshit to be true as it is they think me capable of it."

"Okay, but that _still pisses me off_ ," Mason hissed. "After everything you did for them, and they're just-"

A whistle cut them off, one short peal from Renee. Mason and Eugene snapped into action immediately, reaching for their weapons even as they whirled to see what was wrong.

"Decomps," Tanner barked. "East side."

And indeed there were the dead, stirred from wherever they'd been lurking in their cage of scrunched metal, and others drawn from the woods by the sound. Mason and her army barreled toward them, angling themselves between the walkers and the Alexandrians.

Except- except the Alexandrians were hurrying toward them, drawing their own weapons like they intended to fight.

Panic sparked in her chest, like the glass-glint of ice under the sun. She rounded on them.

" _Back_!" she shouted.

Some of them hesitated, but Rick kept moving, glaring at her. Snarling in frustration, she forced her way back through the herd, slamming walkers out of her way with her iron. Eugene gritted his teeth and moved with her, protecting her deaf side.

When she finally reached Rick, she planted herself right in front of him. "Get. Back."

" _Excuse me_?" he replied, and that voice might have put the fear of God in her before the war, but now? Now all she felt was ire, frigid as a snowstorm.

"I'm not gonna have you stumbling around out there when I you look like a goddamn skeleton. _Get. Back_."

More walkers were flooding onto the highway- quite a few of them, but nothing like what she and Eugene had taken on by themselves. Her army had it handled, but the Alexandrians were still edging forward...

"Mason," Eugene said tightly, eyeing Michonne, Tara and Heath, who were advancing on a pocket of walkers to their left.

Before she could call them back, Rick shoved past her and threw himself at the walkers. But his machete caught in the collarbone of the very first one, and as he was struggling to yank it out, a second walker took him right off his feet. Three others converged on him before he could recover.

Cursing under his breath, Eugene launched into the mix, disposing them expertly, effortlessly. And when they were all dead on the ground, he leaned down and offered his hand to Rick.

Rick stared at him uncertainly before finally taking his hand. Eugene pulled him to his feet without ever quite looking at him.

But around them, the other Alexandrians were joining in. Mason's army fell back quickly to flank them, their expressions tight with dismay, and in doing so lost momentum. The walkers gained a foothold in what had been a strong defense. Suddenly her army was more concerned with keeping watch over the Alexandrians than watching their own backs.

Mason's mind whirled. The Alexandrians were too weak, they were stumbling and staggering, fighting as much just to keep on their feet as they were to kill walkers. If they didn't step back, someone was going to get hurt, someone was going to get _killed_ -

Something in her snapped.

She whistled loudly over the fray- a two-tone note the Misfits recognized and responded to immediately. They traded their close-range weapons for guns in one smooth, practiced move. She whistled again, this time throwing up a silent signal and motioning toward the Alexandrians.

Grimly, silently, the Misfits pushed the Alexandrians back before taking a stance between them and the horde.

Guns raised.

Steady as they pointed them at the Alexandrians.

The Alexandrians stared in shock, their eyes flickering between the Misfits and Mason. None of them appeared to have been seriously hurt, but she could tell they were already exhausted from that mere attempt to fight.

Some of them wouldn't have made it out alive. That much was painfully clear.

Still, Rick watched her with shock, with utter outrage, his hands in the air like some kind of criminal.

The whole thing stung, everything about the situation made her feel sick, but she didn't let it show on her face. Eugene had taught her how to lie perfectly.

"Stay back," she ordered, in a voice so unlike her she felt goosebumps break out on her skin. Eugene glanced at her, plainly uneasy, but he said nothing. And this time, when the two of them lunged into the horde, none of the Alexandrians tried to follow.

Her army fought efficiently. Even without the Misfits, they managed to get the situation under control in just a few minutes. And when all the walkers were dead, Mason turned back to the Alexandrians, still held at gunpoint by her Misfits.

Rage filled her, at them, at what the war had done to them, at _everything_. Only there was no heat to it, no fire.

She was as cold as she'd ever been.

"We need to get a few things straight," she said, prowling toward them. "You try anything as stupid and careless as that again, and I will be locking you in the bus."

"Hey, you don't get to decide that," Rick snapped.

"Actually, you wanna know what?" She drew herself up, burying her emotions so that nothing showed on her face. "I _do_ get to decide that. This is my mission; _I'm_ in charge now. If you have a problem with that, you don't think you're gonna be able to listen when I tell you not to act like a fucking dumbass? I'll take you back to the Kingdom myself."

She paused, and the full weight of what she was doing descended on her.

"But if you stay with me," she continued, "that means you _listen_ to me. Starting now."

She felt...she felt _trapped_. _Trapped_ by her new role, by everything she'd become. It felt as though _she_ was now in that cage she'd built in her chest, and something dark, something _other_ , had taken the wheel.

"That means if I tell you to stay back, you stay back. If I tell you to hide, you hide."

But she couldn't stop. Someone had to protect them, someone had to see them through, and if that meant becoming something she hated, if that meant tearing herself apart, then she would do it.

Her eyes glittered, vengeful and cold. "And if I tell you to stop looking at Eugene like he's a goddamn serial killer, like he didn't risk _everything_ to get you out of that cell, then you _are_ going to fucking stop. Understand?"

No one agreed, but no one objected, either. The Alexandrians were all looking at her like she was something to fear. Her own army stared at her in alarm, unsure of what to do or say.

 _Not all monsters are gods, but all gods are monsters._

Negan did have his wisdom.

She looked at Eugene then, to find him watching her with anguish on his face. That hurt her more than anything.

"May..." he whispered.

"You and Renee get them back on the bus," she growled. "Check them for wounds. We need to finish clearing this mess."

The Misfits lowered their guns, looking glad to do so. Eugene stared at her a moment longer before he and Renee began herding the Alexandrians away.

Everyone kept utterly silent as they worked. Even the voices in her head had nothing to say.

She'd never felt more alone.

 **Alpha**

She descended into a dream of blood, of flesh tearing beneath her capable fingers, of the taste of someone's throat as they screamed.

The victim kept shifting, but they were all faces she recognized from Mason's family. The boy, the preacher, the leader. But finally, finally, it became the one she most wanted to see.

The Chemist begged when she dug her nails into his skin.

He cried when she bit him.

His blood tasted like fire, like being burned alive, and she _craved_ it, her whole body became electric with the need to taste it.

And even when she awoke- slowly, like pouring honey- she lusted for it.

She wanted to bury her teeth in his throat.

She wanted to eat him alive.

 **Mason**

She couldn't sleep so she kept watch, gazing into the darkness as if it wasn't gazing back. Eugene lay in her lap, twitching in response to a dream.

She wondered if there was blood in it. If-

But she cut the thought off at once.

She didn't want to think about her dream, the one that had brought her surging out of a restless doze just an hour ago. Under her breath, she sang something to herself, a song that had been stuck in her head all day, and tried not to think of anything else.

No, she refused to think of her dream. She refused to think of the blood, welling out of that grave on the beach like blooms of liquid carnations.

She refused to think of the screaming. Each voice recognizable. Until it had stopped on the one she'd feared to hear the most, the one that had stung her from her dream like a wasp.

She wasn't going to think of her dream.

She wasn't going to think of why she refused to let go of Eugene.

NOTE: So, I really wanted to parallel Mason in this chapter to Rick at the end of season two- you know, the whole "this isn't a democracy anymore" thing. Pretty dark, but I hope I did it alright. Anyway, just a nerdy little tidbit lol. I really hope you enjoyed it, and until next time, much love ya'll.


	19. In the Cards

Hey, guys! Today's chapter song is "In the Cards" by Robert DeLong- oh my god, such a great song, and absolutely perfect for the atmosphere of this chapter. There is a little bit of a time jump here, which is partly why the last chapter was an interim, to set the mood for this one. But anyway! Thank ya'll so much for your reviews and support, you guys are honestly the best! I hope to get the next chapter out soon, I'm pretty excited for it, but until then let me know what you think!

19\. In the Cards

 **Mason**

She had grown to hate the sun. She had grown to hate pure blue, unceasing sky. She had grown to hate the upholstery of the vehicles they drove, and the endless flatness of the desert, the smell of creosote and sage and relentless, baking _heat_.

She glared through her goggles as she trudged through the scrubby wastes, Eugene, Tanner and Renee by her side. All four of them looked absolutely feral- wrapped in rags in an attempt to keep the sun from cooking their skin, dust-veiled and armed to the teeth. Eugene and Renee wore goggles identical to Mason's, dark-lensed desert trooper types that they'd picked up in Utah. There were only three, however, so Tanner wore sunglasses instead. When Mason had offered to let him wear her goggles, he'd just snorted: "Yeah, and look like a complete dweeb?"

She'd had no energy to argue. She hadn't had much energy for a lot of things lately.

Eventually they came to another road, much smaller than the highway the others were currently stopped on. This was a mere tributary, winding through the desert like a snake to god knew where. Everyone paused, looking instinctively at Eugene.

He checked his compass, checked his map, and then sighed. "It would be unwise to try and follow it more than a few miles."

"When's the next town?" Tanner asked.

"Too far for us to try for. In any case, we'd be going out of our way to reach it. We need to stick to the highway."

"Alright," Mason said dully. "We follow this for a bit, see if we come across any houses. Two hours, and then we need to head back."

The others mumbled their agreement, sounding about as spiritless as she felt. She fell back to let the others lead, casting her gaze behind them every once in a while. She felt so exposed out here. It was nothing like the forests they'd traveled back in Georgia and Virginia, nothing like the mountains they'd migrated through in Colorado. Even the flats through western Kansas had felt less eerie, though she supposed that was probably due to the fact that Kansas would always feel a little bit like home. But here... At any moment she expected to hear gunfire or walkers or _something_ , and every moment she didn't just made her edgier.

She knew it was partly the heat. It put everyone on razors while simultaneously sapping the strength from them. It reminded her of those hellish weeks after Atlanta, after Beth, except the heat here was strange. She was used to humidity, used to feeling as though she was living in a sauna. This was just...heat. Stove-hot and empty. Unchanging, at least until the sun went down. Sweat slid down her spine but she refused to drink any water. It wasn't just gasoline they were nearly out of.

Three months on the road, three months since the war, and they'd lucked out in regard to supplies. She should have known that luck would wear out when they needed it most and now here they were, stranded in the middle of a desert. It was almost too much to handle after everything else, too much her for her weary soul to carry, but she shouldered it anyway.

When they'd stopped that morning- every vehicle running on empty, every gas canister bone dry- she had not let anyone panic. She had put on that cool mask she'd created and calmly, efficiently laid out a game plan. Three months earlier she might have been proud of herself, but not now. Not after carving herself down, not after becoming an utter, frigid bitch just to keep them all alive.

She'd grown to hate herself, too.

~m~

They found no houses, no cars, and nothing to bring back for their people. When Mason pointed out that it was time to head back, Tanner and Renee exchanged worried glances. So she stifled the unease growing in her own belly to assure them that everything would be alright. She would make sure everything was alright.

Eugene, of course, backed her up without a second thought, asserting that once he'd ascertained they'd be traveling through desert, he had studied up on how to survive in one. He had been her rudder through all of this, steadier than the ground beneath her feet. She knew if he hadn't been around, she would have already collapsed under the weight of everything.

On their way back, Tanner and Renee took the lead and Eugene fell back to walk beside Mason. He elbowed her and held out a bottle of water, but she shook her head.

He frowned sternly. "We've been wandering around since the dead heat of noon."

"Oh, so it _hasn't_ been several atrocious centuries?" Mason puffed.

"Possibly. Time is an illusion. Dehydration, however, is not." He waved the water bottle in front of her face until she snatched it with a scowl.

"Jesus, you're annoying."

He watched her take the smallest of sips, though her parched cells screamed for more. "I won't deny that, ma'am. Drink more," he added when she tried to hand the bottle back.

"I would, but we're out of vodka."

"Hardy har."

She took another sip- realizing idly that it was the first water she'd had since yesterday- and glanced at Eugene.

Only with him. Only with him did she let her mask slip, let the desperation creep into her voice as she murmured, "Tell me something."

He needed no explanation. It was a game they played a lot lately, a game they'd created that day he'd carried her bleeding body up the mountain. Distraction.

"Well," he said, and thought for a moment before smiling a little. "I don't believe I've ever told you that for a time I played mother to a flock of ducklings."

Her steps faltered. "Ducklings?"

"Yes, ma'am. Cupcake, Pillow, Churro, Pickle and Steve."

"Were you...were you high when you named them?"

"No. Their names were a deep reflection of their complex personalities."

Mason twitched her nose- fighting off a smile. "Okay. Aren't ducks kind of assholes?"

Eugene looked thoroughly offended. "Not _my_ little darlings," he said. "Well, except Steve."

"So, Newt Scamander, these little darlings and Steve, the asshole... They stayed in your apartment with you?"

"That is correct. Completely broke my lease agreement, but fuck contracts. They were good company, anyway. They just followed me from room to room, swam in the tub, piled on top of me to watch TV. Only rarely did they misbehave. Speaking of, I think it might amuse you what I called them when they did."

"What?"

"Little fucklings."

In spite of herself, Mason snorted with laughter.

And it worked, for a while, the distraction. Eugene could always make her smile.

But that smile faded when the caravan appeared on the horizon, one truck and one bus stopped on the highway. Since their supplies had dwindled and they'd needed all the gasoline they could get, they'd pared down to only two vehicles.

Eugene touched his pinky finger to hers. Bolstered by this silent encouragement, she strode forward with a straighter spine, that unfeeling mask once more reclaiming her features.

Everyone emerged from the bus when the four of them came walking up. Rosita went straight to Renee, kissing her before examining her dismal expression.

"You didn't find anything," she murmured.

Renee just sighed and ran a hand through Rosita's hair.

"Is that true?" Heath demanded.

Tanner held his arms out and made a big show of turning in a circle. "Do you _see_ anything?"

"Reel it in, Tan," Mason muttered, then raised her voice to address the whole group. "We didn't find anything, but everything's gonna be okay. We-"

"How can you say that?" Heath cut in, eyes wide with disbelief. "We are _stranded_ in the middle of a fucking _desert_. No water, no cars- we are _fucked_."

A murmur of panic rippled from him through the rest of the group. Mason clenched her jaw.

"We are not _fucked_ ," she ground out. "We still have water. We can make it stretch."

"And I know how to harvest more from this wasteland," Eugene said. "We have every chance to survive this so long as we keep our heads."

The Alexandrians looked at each other doubtfully, but Mason recognized it for what it was. Mistrust- not of Eugene, but of their ability to come out the other side of this desert.

Though there still remained a certain alienation among the group, over time they had shaken off the image of Eugene that Negan had planted in their heads. They'd also finally forgiven him for Spencer's death- or at least sympathized with why he'd done it- a feat which she knew still eluded Eugene himself. It was one of the few good things that had happened since leaving Virginia.

"So what now?" Michonne asked. Mason couldn't tell if that was a challenge in her voice or not.

"We consolidate," she said. "Siphon what gas is left in the truck, use it for the bus. We'll take that as far as we can go, and the rest we'll travel on foot."

"You sure that's wise?" Jesus asked.

"We don't have any other choice," she replied, refusing to let him get under her skin. "From now on, we move at night. We conserve our water and we _stay together_. I'm not just talking about keeping in eye shot, either. We can't afford to panic." She aimed this last at Heath, who glared at her but said nothing.

Through it all, Rick remained silent, watching her with an unreadable expression. They hadn't spoken much since that day the Misfits had held them at gunpoint. She wondered if he hated her as much as she hated herself.

It didn't take long, moving everything from the truck to the bus. Dray volunteered to drive, so Eugene sat up front on the slim chance he might need navigational assistance- they were definitely going to run out of gas before they reached the next fork in the road, and likely before hitting any roadblocks.

Mason sat in the very back, turned so that she could keep watch through the emergency exit. It was more out of habit than anything else; they hadn't met a single person on their journey. It wasn't as though they were seeking strangers out, of course, but it was still eerie. Like they were the only people left.

They'd been driving for nearly an hour when Denise came and sat in the seat across from her. Mason raised an eyebrow, running her hand over the rifle perched on her lap like it was a semiautomatic cat.

Denise waved awkwardly. "Hey."

"Uh. Hey."

"So. How- how are you?"

Mason stared. "How am I?" She laughed harshly. "How do I look?"

Denise's lips tightened. "Like shit."

"Run over twice, I bet."

She noticed as she spoke that Tara peeking over from the middle row where she sat. Monitoring her. Mason stifled a sigh and looked back at Denise.

"So why is that you're trying to make small talk with me?"

"Well, nobody knows how to talk to you anymore, Mason, you scare the hell out of us."

It wasn't a shock, but Mason still flinched.

"Hey." Denise only hesitated a heartbeat before reaching out to hold Mason's hands. "Everybody...everybody knows you're trying to protect us. We all know you're just trying to protect us."

Denise's face began to blur, so Mason glanced out the window. She couldn't afford to cry anyway. She was already desperately dehydrated.

"But they're still afraid of me," she said, so quietly it was nearly inaudible.

Denise was silent for a moment, eyes flickering as she took in Mason's face.

"This is a mask, isn't it." It wasn't a question. "I mean...Eugene taught you how to put on a show. He's the king of lying and you're the queen of denial."

"But it's not a lie, if that's what you're asking," Mason said. "It may be a mask but it's...it's not a lie. Not all of it, anyway."

She was just using all the weapons at her disposal, she was using everything she could use, and now that her heart felt carved of ice...

The best lies were based in truth. First thing Eugene had taught her.

"I just...wanted you to know..." Denise tripped over her words, like she wasn't sure of the right ones. "That I'm here. If you need to talk, _when_ you need to talk. I see what that war did to you and it's- it's _natural_. Whatever you're feeling, it's not _wrong_ , it's just coping."

Mason bit the inside of her cheek.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter if it was natural, if it was wrong or right or coping. She could not let one ounce of her persona crumble, she _could not_.

It wasn't just that she needed to stay strong as steel for her family, to see them through this.

She wasn't sure...wasn't sure what was left underneath.

If there was _anything_ left underneath.

Maybe this was it.

 _No._

The voice came out of nowhere, firm and bright and strong. Mason screwed her eyes shut to stop them from stinging.

 _You don't get a say, Beth,_ she thought. _You're biased and dead._

 _You better not be tellin' me what I can and can't say._

She almost smiled before remembering that Denise was still watching her. "Thank you," she said. "But I don't know...if..."

The bus rolled to a stop before she could figure out what she didn't know. Everyone looked up, exchanging anxious glances. The setting sun cast them all in ominous carmine.

"We're out," Dray announced, though he didn't need to.

Mason stood before their anxiety could blossom into something else. "Alright," she said. "We take what we can carry and leave the rest. Essentials first. Absolutely everyone carries water, no exceptions. I don't think I need to tell you to stay hydrated."

"Are you including yourself in that or...?" Jesus inquired, eyeing her meaningfully.

She swallowed, prickling uncomfortably when she realized that the others were watching her, too. Eugene arched an eyebrow, curious to hear her answer.

"Yes," she said, sharper than she intended. "But I'm fine."

Eugene frowned, as if to say, _I think the fuck you're not._

She glared at him before pulling Renee aside. "Keep an eye on Maggie and Judith. They get first priority."

So far, Judith, Maggie and Gracie had fared well on the journey. Judith, thankfully, looked at the whole thing as a big adventure and very rarely complained- when she did, Carl, Eugene and Daryl were quick to distract her. And Gracie was a resilient little thing- demanding, but as tough as her mother. Still, Mason hated putting them out in such a climate.

Renee nodded. "Of course, I'll watch out for them." Then she paused, running a critical eye over Mason. Lingering on the straps of her tank top, which she was constantly having to pull up.

"You know, that shirt used to fit you."

Mason grimaced. "So what?"

"Have you eaten today?"

"Eugene hounded me about it yesterday. I'm fine."

It was true, sometimes she didn't eat. Whenever she did, it was mostly to get Eugene to shut up about it.

"Eat something," Renee said, her voice like iron. "That's not a suggestion. It's one thing when we're driving and the most we have to do is kill decomps or move cars. We're on foot now. It doesn't matter that we'll be moving at night, it's going to be taxing. You need food and water just like the rest of us."

Mason rolled her eyes. "I'm _fine_. I'll eat when I need to, I'm not an idiot."

Renee pursed her lips like she might disagree. Mason glared flatly.

"Just keep an eye on the others, alright?"

"You know I will."

Once she'd loaded herself down with all she could carry, Mason stood outside to scrutinize the others, double-checking that they all had water. The last rays of the sun were furling their rosy tendrils as the night descended, and it was beautiful. She wished she were watching it under any other circumstance.

After a while, Eugene found her. "I think everyone's ready to go," he murmured, brushing a kiss over the bridge of her nose.

Some fractured, forgotten part of her trembled at that. She ignored it.

"You take the lead, North Star," she said. "I'll cover our six, keep watch for any uninvited tag-alongs."

"Yes, ma'am."

So the caravan followed Eugene as they began their journey and Mason trailed along at the very end, watching the group for signs of distress, watching behind them for signs of attack.

But she paused for a moment, face tight, beside a sign that had been erected next to the highway. It was simple white plywood, faded by the sun and nailed to two wooden slats like a makeshift billboard.

" _Not unless you have been born again,_ " it said, in weary black paint.

Beneath the careful lettering, a wildfire of bloody hand prints rising from the bottom of the board, like birds taking off in flight.

Mason stared at it for a long moment while twilight slipped away. The feather braided in her hair twirled in the breeze, tickling her cheek.

"Mason?"

She blinked, looking up to see Dave lingering close by. He watched her curiously. Concerned.

She turned away from the sign.

"I'm coming."

~m~

Days passed, in consuming, leaden lurches. When the moon was out, they traveled by its silver light. When the sun was out, they slept in whatever shade was available, whether that was provided by rocks or the tarps they'd brought with them.

Sleep did not come easily, least of all for Mason. She was exhausted by the end of each night, but her body refused to cooperate when she laid down. The heat crept under her skin and made her restless. A headache took root in her skull the second night and remained there, hounding her with its sickening throb. And even when she did manage to sleep, she was tormented by her dreams, the majority of which she could not clearly remember except that there had been blood and screaming.

She took very little water for herself, and even less food, though she tried to pretend otherwise. Her stomach was a gnawing pit. Her muscles felt tight, achy. Every once in a while, chills would seize her. She'd gotten them a lot when she used to go running in the dead heat of summer, and she knew she was overheating but she chose to ignore it. Everything would be fine. She just had to keep walking. She had to get them out.

Tension boiled under everyone's skin, a lurking shadow they could not outpace. Mason knew that, if left unchecked, it would eventually erupt, but... She had no idea where to begin confronting that. She was so goddamn tired.

They might have run out of water on the third day, but Eugene, Mason and the other Misfits had been collecting what they could- the dew each morning, and whatever bled from the earth when they dug deep enough. No one ate that day, however, as per Eugene's instructions.

"We can endure longer without food than we can without water," he said. "Digestion requires more hydration than we can allow right now."

On the fourth evening, it took several tries for Mason to rise to her feet with the rest of them. She tried to play it off, grumbling to Eugene about needing more sleep, but she could tell he wasn't fooled. He insisted she drink some water before starting off. She lifted the bottle to her mouth, let the water touch her cracked lips, and pretended to take a sip.

The dizziness clung to her all night. Her head ached like the blood had caught fire in her skull, but every so often she shivered. She tried to hide it, but it was only a matter of time before Eugene noticed, falling back to walk beside her.

"May," he said in a voice brittle with alarm. "Drink some water. Now."

She huffed, though it felt like there was very little air in her lungs to spare. "I drank some earlier. Stop nagging me."

His eyes flickered over her arms, the goosebumps there. "You're dehydrated. You're going to overheat."

 _He's right._

Hershel.

 _You need to drink._

"Yeah, and I'll tell you exactly what I told Eugene," she said, slurring a bit. "We are out of vodka."

Eugene blinked. "What?"

 _Mason Reynolds, you better listen to them or I swear by all that is holy..._

Beth.

"Oh, yeah?" Mason snorted. "I told you already...you're biased and _dead_."

Eugene frowned in sudden understanding. "Mason. You want them to shut up? Then drink some water."

She threw him a glare. "Do you think I'm some kind of stupid? These fuckers are physically incapable of shutting up."

"They're physically incapable of doing anything, but _you_ are _not_." He placed a water bottle in her hand. "Drink."

Her lips curled in a snarl. " _Don't_ tell me what to do, Porter."

His eyes flashed, surprising her. "Maybe I wouldn't need to if you weren't killing yourself trying to carry us all on your own. Now I think I have been pretty damn patient considering that you've been starving yourself, hiding your food in everyone else's, pretending to drink water- don't think I haven't noticed that- but you cannot do that now, not here."

"Oh, I can't? Really? So even though we're almost out of water and we can't even eat what little food we have and it's...it's _my_ fault..." Her voice broke, and a lump choked her words, but there were no tears. Her body felt incapable of producing them. Distantly she realized that the two of them had come to a stop. "It's _my fault_ , Eugene, don't you understand that? I brought them here, I-I led them here to die-"

"We are _not_ going to die," he said fiercely, but Mason just shook her head.

"The least I can _fucking_ do is suffer, okay? Just- _stop_ trying to help me." She trembled, lifting her hopeless eyes to Eugene's. "All I'm good for is war. I don't know...how to make things better anymore. Negan was right."

" _No_." Gently but firmly, Eugene took her face in his hands. "He was the monster, Mason. Not you. Not ever."

Miserably she shut her eyes. Every bone in her skull _ached_. "You're biased, too."

"No, I see you better than anyone else. Just like you see me. Now, please, just-"

A shout cut him off and both of them looked up. The group was stopped a few yards ahead, gathered in a ragged circle around Tanner and Rick, who were snarling at each other. Daryl and the Misfits hovered close by, tensed to step in.

"Shit," Eugene hissed. He hurried for the group and Mason followed- in spite of her wavering vision, in spite of the way her heart punched a quick, frantic rhythm against her sternum. They were just reaching the others, shrugging the cargo from their backs, when Tanner and Rick lunged for each other.

Daryl and the Misfits converged, trying to drag them apart, but in the fray Rick knocked Ashlee to the ground.

" _Don't touch my sister_!" Tanner bellowed, ramming into Rick and nearly carrying him off his feet.

In the space of a heartbeat, everybody was yelling at everybody else, seething with frustrated energy. Maggie was handing a wailing Gracie to Sherry and Enid was carrying Judith away from the fight. Eugene pushed his way through the crowd, but he never reached Tanner and Rick, too busy pulling Carl out of the way before he was struck by a stray fist.

It was Mason who barreled between them, slamming them apart with all the strength left in her body. The three of them went tumbling to the ground. In the scramble, Mason caught a few blows to the spine and one to the jaw, but somehow she managed to wrestle them apart and stagger to her feet. Light-headed and clumsy, she placed herself between them as they stood.

" _Enough_ ," she said, trying to sound less breathless than she felt. But her pulse was a wild thing in her rib cage, her throat, her wrists. "What the hell do you two think you're doing?"

"This prick needs to watch his fucking attitude!" Tanner growled.

In retrospect, Mason supposed she wasn't surprised Tanner had decided to pick a fight with Rick. Of all the Misfits, he and Charlie were the least inclined to forgive Rick for how he'd treated Eugene after the war.

Rick cocked his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes, but Mason shook her head.

" _Stop_. I don't care who got an attitude with who, just _stop_ fighting. I'm sick of it. We are _all_ family now, whether you like it or not."

Everyone watched her warily, poised as though unsure the fight was really over. The moonlit wasteland surrounding them rose and fell like a lazy ocean, or maybe that was just Mason. Was she floating? Was she breathing?

"Look, I...I'm _sorry_ ," she said. "About the way things have been since the war and just- everything, everything."

She looked down at her feet, fidgeting. Not just because she couldn't stand the way they were all looking at her, but because it felt like if she stopped moving, her heart would, too.

"I didn't know how to put it all back together again," she said. Little black dots were dancing over her vision. Chills spidered through her body, followed by a wave of unbearable, restless heat. "I just knew...I just knew I couldn't lose any of you. I'm sorry that, in a way, I pitted you against each other. And..." She paused to suck in a gulp of air. God, she couldn't _breathe_. "And...I'm sorry I've been...I've..."

But she never finished apologizing. At that moment the world rushed away in a dizzying black sweep, and she wavered a moment before collapsing.

~m~

When she regained consciousness, it was to the gentle motion of someone carrying her. She peeled her eyes open, unsurprised to see that it was Eugene's arms around her, his eyes sparkling with relief as they flickered down to her face.

"Welcome back, sunshine," he said, smiling softly.

"What happened?" she croaked.

"You passed out. I guess the lack of food, water and sleep finally caught up to you. Go figure."

"Hey," she rasped. "Keep the salt to yourself, I'm just a dehydrated little bean."

He laughed a little, leaning his head down to nudge his nose against her ear. "Alright, ma'am, I'll wait to tell you I told you so until you feel better."

"Thanks. But I meant...I meant what happened with the others?" Her heart did a weak little flip. "Are they okay? Are they still at each other's throats?"

"No. After you passed out, I sent Tanner and Rick to scout for a place to camp out for a while."

Mason squirmed slightly in alarm. "You sent them out together?"

"I thought it was high time they learned to play nice with each other," Eugene replied, in a cool tone that suggested he wasn't terribly pleased with either of them. "Don't worry your dizzy head about it. I sent Daryl, Renee and Carol as mediators. No blood was spilled, so I'd say time-out was a success."

"We're camping now?" Mason glanced up at the sky. The moon was still out, not low enough on the horizon to suggest it was anywhere near dawn.

"We need to make sure you're alright, Mason," Eugene said. No room for argument in his voice. "Rick and Tan managed to make themselves useful and find a place where you can lower your body temperature. Everyone else has been digging, collecting water."

So now she was grinding the journey to a complete halt. It was enough to make her want to scream, or cry, or...fucking implode. Jesus, she should've been born with a hazard sign.

"May," Eugene murmured. "I think this needs to happen."

She wasn't brave enough to ask him what exactly he meant by that, and in any case they were coming up on the chosen camp, a cluster of rocks and shrubby vegetation. Not quite an oasis, but when Eugene laid her on the highest rock she sighed in relief. It felt blissfully cool compared to her own skin, and the breeze that reached her there felt like a kiss from the night itself.

"Mason!"

"You're awake!"

She turned to see Dave, Carl, Ashlee and Enid climbing onto the rock pile to join her. Mason tried to sit up, but Eugene laid a quelling hand on her shoulder.

"Not so fast there, partner," he said.

"Here you go, Mama Death," Ashlee said, handing Mason a bottle of water.

Mason blinked. "What did you call me?"

"Oh." Ashlee nervously twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. "Well, that's..."

"That's what we've been calling you," Enid answered.

"All- all of you?"

"Yeah." Carl nodded. "Even my dad."

Mason flushed with a sudden wave of shyness, which then made her head spin. Eugene propped her up against his side, holding her steady so she could take a drink.

"Slowly," he advised. "Or it might make you sick."

Shakily she obeyed. The water was warm, but it felt like silk to her parched throat. It was an effort not to guzzle the whole thing then and there.

"The others," she said, once she'd taken a few careful sips. "They have water, too?"

"We're alright, Mason, don't worry," Dave said. "We've been digging since we got here. It's slow going, but we've collected a good amount of water."

"Should I tell them you guys are here?" Carl asked.

Eugene shook his head. "In a few ticks. Give her some time to rest up."

Mason couldn't help feeling grateful. She wasn't sure how she was going to face her people.

The other four, assured that Mason was going to live, left to help with the water-harvesting. Mason and Eugene sat in silence once they were gone, Mason drinking intermittently and Eugene playing absently with her hair.

And then Eugene said, "I'm sorry."

Mason frowned, twisting to look at him. "What?"

"I should have been more proactive...more _aggressive_. I should've fought harder to get you to fight for yourself."

"Eugene, you fought every day," she said flatly, and it was the truth. It had been her choice to brush him off, to disregard his concern. "What were you going to do- hold me down and force-feed me? Stick me with an IV drip? I made my own dumbass choices."

"I am...I'm supposed to take care of you."

"You _do_." She rolled over so that she was facing him. "I never would have made it this far without you, and I'm not just talking about this unholy road trip."

"I just...I didn't want to _push_ you," he continued miserably. "I didn't want you to feel as though you were under siege after everything you'd been through, and I assure you if I had known the proper procedure I would have employed it, but I- I didn't want to alienate you anymore than you felt you already were. Perhaps if I'd gone about things differently...well, maybe we never would have arrived at this pleasant juncture."

He trailed off for a moment, staring down at the rock beneath them like it was an unwelcome memory.

Then he said, "Do you want me to tell you something?"

Like the game they played, but...different. Just a little off.

She felt a pinch of foreboding in her stomach, but answered without a second thought. "Tell me anything."

"Do you remember when I told you about my dad? About...about his attempted- or I suppose belatedly successful- suicide?"

Mason tried not to wince. "Of course I do."

"Well. I...may have left out a piece of the story," he said. His voice was quiet, but Mason heard the shame that burned behind it. The guilt. "I promise you, I did not do so to deceive you, or because I felt I couldn't trust you, I just..."

Mason butted her head against his arm like a cat. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Well, I want to tell you this. Well, I don't. But..." He sighed, a nervous, broken sound. "That day before my dad jumped from our balcony, I confronted him. About Mom. About his own...issues. He was forever caught in a stew of alcoholism and depression, and though he never shied from screaming back at my mother when she was on the warpath, he always, _always_ took the abuse. Curled up and let her rough him up once her attention was off of me. Sometimes it was just words. Sometimes she used her fists. She wasn't so worried about bruises showing up on him as she was on me, you understand."

The darkness in his voice, the resentment and sorrow, made her heart twinge. She rubbed a soothing hand over his back as he went on.

"That day I just couldn't stand it any longer. I was tired of him setting that example for me, tired of him letting her get away with her cruelty, tired of seeing him brought low like I was. It was the first and only time I ever challenged him on the matter. I told him there were places he could go, people he could see. That he could get better, and he _deserved_ better."

His spine tensed under her fingertips, his face tight with pain.

"I was not anticipating the anger or the...the _fear_. I didn't consider that he might be more terrified of change than of _her_. But I know now...perhaps it came with maturity, or from my own familiarity with depression, but I know how it can come to feel normal. How it can become such an intrinsic aspect of your own personality that the thought of being without it...it's an unknown variable. Who are you without your demons?"

And she understood, perhaps more intimately than he realized...

Or maybe he _did_ realize. Maybe that was why he had decided to confide in her.

"That was the only time he ever shouted at me," he said, his voice trembling. "He got so shitfaced I didn't recognize him anymore. He wasn't my dad anymore. I don't remember ever being afraid of him except for that night. He smashed the bottle against my door, he punched a hole in the wall... When I ventured out a few hours later- when I was certain he had blacked out on the couch- the apartment was unrecognizable. I straightened everything up before Mom came home.

"I stayed home because I wanted to apologize, and perhaps broach the subject more deftly than I had the night before. But of course I never got the chance."

He paused, heaving another sigh, before wrapping her in a tight hug. He buried his face in her hair. His heart beat loud and insistent against her ear.

"I just didn't want to push you, Mason," he said, in a quiet, tear-thick voice. "I was so goddamn terrified to see you in such a desperate place, and so goddamn terrified that I might force you off that ledge just like I did with him-"

He cut off with a shudder that might have been a sob. Fiercely- or as fiercely as her weakened body would allow- she hugged him back.

"Eugene, listen to me," she said. "Your dad? That was not your fault, okay? It just wasn't. He made his own decisions. No matter what you said to him or what you didn't. You are not a cure-all for depression. It sounds like he was too deep in it for anyone to reach him, and besides, you were _thirteen_. That should not have been _your_ responsibility, ever. And you shouldn't have to carry that weight now."

She shook her head- a bit difficult, considering how he was squeezing her.

"I'm sorry, I know you loved him but...I sort of hate him for that. For making you think that any of that was your fault. Eugene, _you_ deserved better."

They sat in silence for a while, Eugene rocking her just slightly. A warm breeze kissed them with butterfly softness.

"You deserved better, May," he finally murmured, nearly inaudible. "This world should have to earn you."

She didn't want to confess how fervidly she disagreed. Instead she simply said, "Maybe we should just create our own world. Go there."

He shuddered again, half-laughter, half-tears. "You write it. I'll construct it."

"Oh, yeah? And how exactly are you going to construct this parallel world?"

"I'll...do some science or something."

Then they were both laughing, and though her chest was heavy with his pain, with her own pain and the weariness of everything, she felt better than she had in months.

They spent an hour perched on that rock in pleasant silence. Even the little bit of water she'd already seemed to reinvigorate her. When the bottle was empty, Eugene handed her another.

But eventually, he glanced at her. "Do you think you're up to seeing the others now? I'm sure they will feel much better when they see for themselves that you are still kicking."

She fidgeted uneasily. "Um. Yeah. I guess."

Actually the notion kind of made her want to puke, but she kept that to herself. Whatever they thought of her, she'd made that bed herself.

"I'm right here, May," Eugene said. And he held her hand as they climbed off of the rock and made their way to the group, clustered near another rock pile several yards away. All of them were on hands and knees, digging dutifully with rocks and other makeshift tools. Even Judith was there, jabbing at the dirt with a little stick.

All of them looked up as she and Eugene appeared.

There was a beat of silence, in which Mason wished she could curl up against Eugene's chest and disappear.

But then the others all began to stand, and she realized after a moment that they were waiting on her. Waiting for her to speak.

 _Tell them._

Beth's voice came like the softest ray of sunlight, like a whisper of rain on the breeze.

 _Tell them everythin' you've been meanin' to say._

With Beth's voice in her head, with Eugene's hand in hers, she let herself be brave.

"I'm not okay," she said. "I haven't been for a while. I know you all are the same. We have _all_ suffered, and this war...this war has changed whatever it could get its fucking hands on. But it hasn't changed how important you are to me, or how much I- I love you. There is so much that I wish I _could_ change. That I wish I hadn't broken for. But you? I would fight a thousand wars for you."

Her words were clumsy, embarrassed, painfully genuine. Her insides felt like a strange limbo- the hollowness that had controlled her of late teetering on the edge of feeling _everything_.

"I'm not sure I remember how to be me yet, but I'm done playing tyrant," she continued. "Every decision this group makes, we have to make it together. I never should have been arrogant enough to assume that I knew what was best, I was just _terrified_. After everything we went through to return to each other, I couldn't stand the thought of losing any of you. I promise I will do everything in my own power to keep you safe, but you are also free. _We_ are free. From here on out, we move forward as one. We _decide_ as one. As family."

Her words were met with silence. After a few heartbeats her knees began to shake, her palm sweaty against Eugene's. And then...

And then the Misfits laid their fists over their hearts, and the others of her army followed suit, and then the Alexandrians.

Even little Judith, bouncing excitedly on her toes between Carl and Enid, copied them, giggling like she thought it was a game.

Mason blinked, her eyes stinging with tears she quickly blinked away. Her throat choked with that emotion, that overwhelming wave she'd been denying for months. She turned to Eugene for help, only to find him with his free hand over his own chest, beaming at her as though they'd finally been reunited. She supposed in way she was returning to him, to all of them.

After a moment, Judith scurried toward her, arms outstretched. "Mama Death!" she pronounced almost perfectly, squealing when Mason picked her up. She hugged Mason briefly, her little arms gentle around her neck as though she knew how unsteady Mason felt, and Mason remembered then what Beth used to say. That Judith was sensitive to other people's emotions.

"Am I Mama Death?" Mason murmured.

"Yes!" Judith cheered, patting Mason's cheeks.

"She is totally enamored with the idea of the Grim Reaper now, thanks to you," Michonne said, coming up to run a hand through Judith's curls. "When we're putting her to bed, we can't tell her about Goldilocks or Jack and the beanstalk, she has to hear about the Scourge of the Sanctuary."

Mason coughed self-consciously. "Whoops."

"It's alright." Michonne smiled and touched Mason's face. "We forgive you."

It took her a moment. Mason blinked, swallowed, tried to find her voice.

"You...you forgive me," she finally said, so quiet and quivering they were barely words. "You..."

Michonne embraced her. "Don't start crying, you'll dry out again."

Mason laughed, although it sounded more like a sob. "I don't cry, crying's for wussies."

Eugene flicked her ear. "Wussy."

~m~

They spent the rest of the night at that campsite, gathering water and just...being together. Enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't had the chance to. And there was still awkwardness, and there was still tension, though that was mainly due to the uncertainty of the future. But somehow it was still good. When the sun came up, they bedded down for sleep under the tarps, and when the sun went down they awoke to discuss what to do next.

Eugene said that they weren't far from California, and just a few days' journey from the closest city.

"It is perfectly possible that we can continue to find water the way we have been along the way," he said. "There will be no surplus, but..."

"And if not?" Rick asked. Although he had apparently forgiven Mason with the rest of them, she had not had the chance to speak to him one on one. She wasn't sure when she'd be brave enough for that.

"If not, we are exactly three days away from the next checkpoint on our map," Eugene replied. "Two and a half if we push it."

Everyone looked at each other. No one was unaware of the gravity of their situation except of course Judith and Gracie, who Mason couldn't help envying.

And then suddenly everyone was looking at her.

She startled. "What?"

"Anything to add, Mason?" Tara said.

"Guys, I...I told you. I'm not running this show anymore."

"Doesn't mean you don't have a voice in this," Rick said. "We are doing this as a family, right? That means all of us."

Mason found herself glancing instinctively at Daryl and Eugene. Their gazes steadied her.

They couldn't stay where they were, but everyone knew that already. They weren't deciding on a choice, they were preparing for their only one. She wished there was some magical solution she could pull out of a hat, but there wasn't. They were just going to have to power through to the end.

"We can make it," she said. She had to force the confidence into her voice, but she'd had enough practice by now that she didn't think anyone noticed. "We'll harvest water, we'll be smart about it. We can do this."

"We can," Maggie spoke up. "Together. But _only_ together." She threw Tanner a warning look and he held up his hands.

"Hey, I'm all about togetherness. One love and all that crap," he said.

And so they set out again, too focused on pushing forward to let themselves show fear. There was only the desert and the destination.

A night passed. They made good progress, but in doing so went through most of the water they'd gathered. They found little at dawn when they stopped to rest so no one ate again for the third night in a row. Sleep resisted, but in the end befell them all.

Mason was dizzy getting up the next evening, though she wasn't terribly surprised to be.

 _It's your own damn fault, you stubborn dick for brains,_ Abraham said.

 _Thanks for the sympathy, you hypocrite,_ Mason thought back.

She hauled herself to her feet, drinking the water Daryl offered her.

"Where's Eugene?" she asked.

Daryl pointed toward the west. "Up the hill a ways. He and Carl went to see if we should rejoin the highway or not."

When she found them, their silhouettes were painted against a dusty blue horizon. The twilights here really were beautiful, she had to admit, albeit grudgingly.

"What's up, nerds?" she said, trying not to sound as though the hike had left her breathless. As they'd continued, the desert had become hillier, making it painfully apparent how out of shape her recent negligent lifestyle had left her.

"Um, I hope you're not including _me_ in that," Carl said.

"Comic books, science, hanging out with this guy?" Mason cocked her thumb at Eugene, who glared flatly. "Sorry, kid, you're as nerdy as nerdy can get."

"This coming from the woman who fangirls hysterically over any and all badly made horror movies," Eugene muttered.

"So do you, poindexter."

They stuck their tongues out at each other and Carl shook his head in despair.

"Aren't you two supposed to be adults?"

"Only legally," Mason replied. "So what have you guys decided? Quicker to follow the highway, or...?"

"Well, we're not really sure yet," Carl admitted. "Mostly we're just trying to figure out what _that_ is"

He pointed straight ahead to a cluster on the western horizon. A... _glowing_ cluster.

Mason blinked. "What the hell is that?"

"They don't look like lights, at least not typical lights," Eugene said.

"Not fires, either..." Carl said. "Maybe it's aliens!"

"We couldn't get that lucky." Mason narrowed her eyes. "It could mean people," she said, not without a pinch of misgiving.

"It could mean food and water," Eugene replied.

They exchanged a long, grave glance. Taking a chance on the possibility of people, when they were already so weak...

"You know, we now have extensive proficiency in subterfuge, sabotage and ambush," Eugene said. "We have a good amount of weaponry on us. We may not be at one hundred percent right now, but if we _were_ to encounter any assailants..." He elbowed her ribs gently. "I think we could take 'em."

Mason bit her lip, eyeing the strange radiance in the distance. Going ran the risk of a rendezvous with hypothetical inhospitables. Not going ran the risk of passing up hypothetical replenishment.

 _Go._

The voice came like a breath, so low she almost wondered if she'd imagined it. But hallucination or no, it was Beth, and Abraham, and Glenn, and all of them, all at once. Slowly, she nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Let's check it out."

Carl's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah. Why, you don't think we should?"

"I don't know... I mean, you guys ever listen to Welcome to Night Vale?"

"All hail the glow cloud!" Mason and Eugene intoned in ghoulish tones, then giggled in delight at the synchronicity.

"No, for real, squirt," Mason said, turning back to Carl. "Do you think we shouldn't go?"

"Well..." Carl peered at the luminescence. "I guess we do have the Chemist and the Reaper on our side. We can handle whatever's out there together. Also, Mason? I'm almost taller than you, I don't think you can call me squirt anymore. I mean, really, what stunted your growth?"

Eugene snorted. Mason glared at both of them.

"Hard drugs and societal expectations," she said. "Now shut up and let's go see what the others think of this glow cloud."

"Aliens."

"Whatever."

 **Alpha**

"It's probably best if we make a pit stop here, Miss. There's a big stretch of wasteland ahead of us."

Alpha arched a brow, tipping her sunglasses down to peer at the old man.

"Stopping here won't lessen the desert," she said dryly.

Murph huffed. "Yes, yes, I know, I simply meant that we should rest up before we attempt this leg of the journey. Scavenging for a few supplies wouldn't hurt, either."

Alpha pursed her lips, examining the little town ahead of them. It looked entirely deserted, and it looked as though it had been that way for a long time. She doubted they'd find much there in the way of useful, but there was something about the gritty cluster of buildings, the square voids that had once been windows, that called to her.

She shrugged. "Alright, we can bum around for a bit."

Murph blinked, obviously surprised to have won so easily. "O-okay."

They climbed back into the car- since Alpha had made a full recovery, she'd insisted on trading the ambulance for something a little less noticeable. The blood poisoning, the sickness, that was all just a memory now, but it had left her with several dreams she could not dismiss so easily.

Their dusty black car looked right at home driving through that ghost town, past sun-faded houses with tumbling chain-link fences and weed-cracked driveways. Murph parked at an old gas station, though neither of them were hopeful there was a drop left to siphon. Alpha left him to it, wandering back toward the suburb they'd come from.

An old playground caught her eye, right on the edge of town. She hopped the fence and made a beeline for the swing set. When her and Mason were dating it was a tradition of theirs to sneak out in the middle of the night and get drunk on swing sets. Alpha let the memory wash over her as she sat on a swing, facing out toward the amaranthine badlands.

"It's pretty here," someone said.

Alpha felt her heart beat faster, but she refused to let the tension show on her face. She glanced over at the slight figure perched on the swing next to her.

Feral grinned, innocent and cruel.

Alpha shook her head, a slow, murderous smile darkening her features. "You're not real," she said. "You're not here."

"Oh, yes, we are!" Feral answered brightly. "We followed you. We'll always follow you."

Abruptly, Alpha stood, turning away from the apparition.

"Follow me off a cliff."

A dull ringing was building in her skull. She wondered if there was any liquor in this place.

"You can't get rid of us, Gina."

This time the voice was only Feral's on the surface. Beneath there was also Beta, and-

No.

Not her mother. Not that bitch.

Alpha stalked away from the playground, ignoring the ghosts that shadowed her every step. If she just didn't turn around...

Yeah, she needed some fucking booze.

NOTE: In case anyone's unfamiliar, "Welcome to Night Vale" is this awesome, off-the-wall podcast about a little desert town where the strange makes itself at home. It's _so great_. It's creepy-cool and elegantly hilarious and features an openly gay protagonist and I just. Love it. Anyway, I'll stop nerding out lol Much love, you guys.


	20. Skin of the Night

Okay, guys, so this chapter was quite possibly one of my favorites to write. I had an opportunity to get really poetic with it, and the setting was really fun to delve into, and I hope you guys like it, too. The chapter song is "Skin of the Night" by M83 and I highly, HIGHLY recommend listening to it. It is gorgeous and sexy and melancholy and just _perfect_ for this part of the story. And speaking of sexy...there is some adult content in this one, and it's a little more explicit than it has been in the past. Nothing really gross porny lol but still, just a head's up. As always, super, super huge thank you to ya'll for your reviews and support! I hope to have the next chapter out soon, but until then let me know what you think!

20\. Skin of the Night

 **Mason**

When the structure began to take shape, her first thought was that it was absolutely beautiful.

She had never seen anything like it, dozens upon dozens of cars parked haphazardly around each other- some of them half-buried in the ground as though a giant had thrown them like lawn darts- and all of them... All of them graffitied, absolutely _cosmic_ , with glow in the dark paint. Pinks, greens, blues, purples... Mason was reminded irresistibly of the night Eugene had set fire to that shack in the woods.

There was not an inch of any vehicle left unadorned, and many of them were connected like a maze by sheets and scarves and tattered clothes- makeshift walls and ceilings, Mason realized. The whole thing looked like the home of some celestial gypsy caravan.

Her second thought, quick to take the place of the first, was that so much work had been put into the place that there had to be people around.

She fell into defense mode immediately, drawing her assault rifle. The others took their cue from her, bristling with their own weapons. Eugene and Daryl flanked her on either side as the group edged forward.

They made a circuit around the entire camp, slow, keeping together. Any other time they might have split up to cover more ground, but Mason wasn't taking that chance with everyone so weak. They saw no one, no one through the gaps in the cars left open to the elements, no one waiting to ambush them from the surrounding desert.

"Doesn't mean anything," Carol muttered darkly. "Could be a trap to lower our guard, get us to go inside."

Mason nodded, glancing around at the others. "The Misfits and I can head in first, check for snares. The rest of you follow behind, watch out for any signs of an ambush." She phrased it carefully, a suggestion instead of a command.

"Isn't that a little dangerous?" Heath said. "Going in's exactly what they'd want us to do."

"Don't worry, we're experts at detecting these things. We've disarmed dozens of 'em," Dave said and gave him a winning smile. "You could come with. I could show you how we do it."

Heath blinked. "Wait, what? That's...I don't know..."

Dave elbowed him. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

"Hey, man, I can take care of myself just fine."

"Well, then you should _definitely_ come with. I get along just fine, but these jokers?" He inclined his head toward the Misfits. "They need someone to wrangle their asses."

He winked and Heath's lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Renee and Tanner exchanged a glance but said nothing.

"Mason's idea seems pretty sound to me," Sasha said. "We aren't in any position to pass up supplies if there are any."

The group glanced from Mason to Rick and back again. Mason tried to look him in the eye and found she couldn't.

After a moment, Rick nodded. "Alright," he said. "Misfits first, then the rest of us. But we stay close, no losing sight of each other."

So the Misfits ventured inside, Mason and Eugene in the lead. The glowing paint illuminated their way, wrapping them up like a new, neon world. They moved cautiously, checking every blind corner, every place where a snare might have been set. They looked into every car on the chance that someone was lying in wait.

But there were no people. No traps. The cars were filled with wild displays of paraphernalia, like the haphazard booths Mason remembered from antique malls.

And then they came to the center of the thing, a circle in the middle of interconnecting passageways. Half of it was canopied by sheets, stitched together like an over-sized quilt. The other half was open to the night sky.

A truck was parked across from them, splashed with multi-hued lambency just like the rest of the vehicles, but its tailgate was down, revealing the bounty in its bed. Blankets, books, candles, clothes, jewelry, medical supplies, flashlights, weapons...

Food. Water.

Mason's mouth went dry at the sight of it, but she stifled the urge to run forward. If anything was going to be a trap, it was the cornucopia before them.

Daryl elbowed her and held up a silent signal. _Quality assurance_. Then he edged forward, crossbow loaded and ready, his eyes flickering back and forth over the ground. Tracking, Mason realized.

She and Eugene followed after him, careful to stay a few steps behind to keep from mucking up whatever trails he might pick up.

He was almost to the truck when he stopped and shook his head. "Everything's cold," he said. "Nobody's been here in a couple of weeks."

Mason blinked. So either the trap was meant to be fatal, or whoever had laid it was dead. Because it was obviously a trap. There was not a doubt in her mind about that.

But when she and the Misfits checked for it, they found nothing. They examined every inch of the truck and its immediate surroundings, but...

"Nothing," she muttered and exchanged a bewildered glance with Eugene.

"Hey." Daryl handed her a worn piece of paper. "Found it taped to the steering wheel."

The paper was smudged and sun-stained, fingerprints of dirt and fingerprints of paint dotting the edges. The writing was quick but elegant, and the words snagged her attention like claws, like a snare all their own.

" _Everything becomes a vision in the desert. The raw, broken tumblings of mortal intellect fade to empyrean whispering, enamored with their own transience._

 _We become different people when the sun strips us bare. The beautiful hiding their ugly bare their teeth. The cowardly hiding their courage conquer the wastelands they once sought to run from. We turn from love to hate and back again the same way the Earth circles the sun._

 _This place is for the ones who pursue love through the mirages, through the consuming wilderness of hate and survival, of apocalyptic sentience. This place is for the unyielding who crave gentleness. For those who remain relentless in their belief that good will grow from the wounds like flowers from a carcass._

 _So welcome, visions, wraiths, revenants. Welcome to the fighters who want to be lovers, the survivors who want to be dreamers, the killers who want to be artists. Welcome to the ones who are returning from the dead._ "

There was more written beneath, but Mason had to pause for a moment to blink away the tears filling her eyes. Daryl and Eugene stared in surprise.

"What's it say?" Daryl asked.

She didn't answer at first, turning to signal to the others that it was safe. They filed in cautiously, their eyes wide as they took in the glut of supplies in the back of the truck.

She held up a hand as they gathered around her, quieting their murmurings, and continued her reading out loud.

" _This is the Oasis for broken things, for star-gazers and the lost,_ " she murmured. " _It was built under the simple, vigorous faith that humanity will continue to care, to heal, to love, even against the insurmountable, even against an unforgiving oblivion. If you find this place, everything here is yours. Take what you need, for this desert is a greedy heart and will love you even as she is consuming you. Take what you need, and when fate allows, leave something in return. We are not alone in this world, not even now. Though we may never meet, know that I have loved you, for the reality of what you are, for the vision of what you might be. I love you because this world needs to remember what it means to do so. I will love you to my last day, simply because I can no longer hate. I am done feasting on my own_ _misery_."

Mason paused again to take a shaky breath. A single tear ran down her cheek.

" _I hope that you find what you are looking for, whether that be here or wherever you are trying to reach. I hope that one day, in the middle of surviving, you remember what it is to live. I hope that counting days becomes forgetting the time and that, however you may have died, you are reborn._ "

And beneath that, signatures. Dozens of them, written in pen and pencil and paint and blood. On the back there were even more, and next to each name there were dates written, or at least approximations of dates.

A Sam Gabrielle had been there last year in the middle of May.

A Veronica Hodder had been there around the new year.

Olive Dussault "around August 30th-ish", Damian Laskin last fall, Quincy James last June "from waxing gibbous moon to full".

So many. So many had come here.

Carol nudged her. "You think this place is really some kind of end of the world giving tree?" It was clear from her dark expression that she didn't believe so herself. But Mason...

"Yes," she breathed, surprised by her own faith. Then she cleared her throat. "But we should check the rest of this place. In case someone's hiding out with less noble intentions."

So they scoured the other passageways, and Mason was not surprised at all to find that they were truly alone. No traps, no people. This place...this place was exactly what it claimed to be.

On their way back to the heart, they began searching through some of the cars. It wasn't just essentials people had left behind, there were photos and books and artwork, but... There was also an SUV _filled_ with bottles, jugs, canisters of water, and it wasn't the only one. There was an old car, its trunk left open and teeming with canned goods, mason jars full of preserves, bags of salt, sugar, spices, dried fruits and meats.

They were wary taking things. They grabbed their food and water with all the feral vigilance of stray cats. But nothing happened, no wires were tripped, no snares set off. No one jumped out of the shadows. They returned to the center of the Oasis with their spoils, hardly daring to believe in it.

"But... Wait, guys, wait," Tara said. "What if the water isn't safe? I mean...what if someone poisoned it?"

Everyone hesitated, and Mason knew that the ones who had come out of Atlanta together were remembering that stint on the road, when Aaron had left them water.

She glanced at Eugene, who gave her a little nod. "Well, there is only one way to know for sure," he said, and before anyone could stop them both he and Mason took a drink from the water they'd taken.

The others jerked forward, like they might stop them.

"Hey, wait!" Tara exclaimed.

"What the hell are you two thinking?" Rick demanded.

"I'm thinking that it would be incredibly pointless to poison the water," Eugene replied. "Whoever constructed this place had plenty of opportunities to incorporate some variety of deception, but we have not found one shred of evidence to suggest that this is the case."

He glanced at Mason when he spoke, and she saw the faith in his eyes, too. She couldn't say how she knew, but she felt the truth of the place in her chest. Clearly she was not alone.

"However, given that anything is possible and it would be incredibly careless to disregard that fact, I'm also thinking we can't we can't leave stones unturned."

Rick glared at both of them, the muscle in his jaw working as though he were chewing on his outrage. The others fidgeted uneasily. Carol was absolutely fuming, and Mason half-expected her to throttle the two of them. Before any throttling took place, however, Renee held up a quelling hand.

"I'll monitor them for any adverse symptoms," she said.

So they all sat down and waited. Fifteen minutes. Thirty. An hour.

Nothing happened.

Eventually, Eugene gave Mason a satisfied smirk. "Well, May? How do you feel?"

She grinned, playing along. "I don't know about you, but _I_ feel simply _divine_."

"What a coincidence, I do, too!"

"Alright, alright," Michonne growled. "You two smartasses made your point."

"So...it's safe?" Carl said, a smile spreading across his face. His eyes sparkled with excitement. "We can drink? We can eat?"

The tension on Rick's face softened. "We can."

And suddenly, it was as though a veil lifted. The whole group lit up with joy. They drank their water and ate their food- slowly, as per Renee's advisement.

They talked. They _laughed_ , tentative but together, and Mason felt the lines that had divided them for so long dissolve.

For the first time in months, she fell asleep easily, and did not wake once.

~m~

They decided to stay another night, to get their strength back and to explore their safe haven properly. They lit the candles strewn about the Oasis, though the paint provided enough of a glow that it wasn't really necessary.

Mason, Eugene and Daryl explored together, Eugene making a beeline for the first stash of books they came across. Daryl snorted when he chose a thick collection of sci-fi stories and immediately began to read.

"Huff all you like, Mr. Dixon, you obnoxious boar," Eugene said, his voice lofty, teasing. "I doubt if you could appreciate the rich complexities of science fiction anyway."

Daryl stared at him for a moment before licking his finger and sticking it in Eugene's ear.

"Ack! You fucker!" Eugene yelped, swatting him away.

"Can you appreciate the rich complexities of shut the hell up?"

Mason smiled and shook her head, sifting through an accumulation of goods in a glove compartment.

Her fingers stilled when she came across the little box. Hesitantly she shook it, and felt her stomach flip when it rattled. Quickly, before she could overthink it, before Daryl or Eugene could see, she tucked the box into her rucksack.

Everyone returned to the heart a few hours later, chattering excitedly about everything they'd found while they passed around food and water. Apparently two more trucks of water had been discovered- enough for them to drink, bathe with and still have plenty left over. The notion of washing away the sweat and grime she'd come to think of as near-permanent... It felt like a fantasy to Mason.

It was even more fantastic when it was her turn to do so. Stripping down to her bare skin at the edge of the Oasis, she scrubbed herself clean, and when she felt brand new she stood for a moment under the stars. The Milky Way luscious and bright above her naked silhouette, the rising moon swollen and cinnamon on the eastern horizon. The breeze kissed her wet skin lovingly. She closed her eyes, a blissful grin eating up her face.

When she returned to the heart, dressed in clothes she'd scavenged from the Oasis, it dizzied her laying eyes on her family. They were so happy, for the first time in months. It took her breath away.

They were hounding Eugene to play the guitar Dray had brought, and only when he spotted Mason smiling at him from the edge of the group did he concede.

She sang along to every song he played, and her family joined in when they knew the lyrics, and they were happy, they were _happy_ , and the sound of them all together claimed the night.

When her voice was too hoarse to continue, the Misfits showed everyone the paint they'd found. It was the same glowing medium that surrounded them, in so many different colors, and when some of the others seemed confused by their enthusiasm, Dave explained that it was to leave their mark.

"We're here, and we're alive," he said. "Don't you think that's something to document?"

No one argued with that. Suddenly everyone was a whirl of color and laughter, scattering to find the perfect places to document their beating hearts. Mason spotted Dave grab Heath's hand and race away, both of them giggling. She saw Daryl offer a tin of paint to Sherry, who looked skeptical but dipped a finger in anyway. She saw Dray and Charlie convince an exasperated Carol to draw a series of stick figures on an old SUV.

Mason and Eugene chose their own canvas, a pocket of space on the eastern edge of the Oasis. The little square was cordoned off by a car and two sheet-walls, and where there might have been a third, it was open instead to the night-bound wilderness.

"I think maybe someone meant this to be a bedroom," she said and then shut her mouth tight. The back of her neck prickled with a different kind of heat than that of the desert.

"I would say that is a correct assessment," Eugene replied, too focused on the graffiti he was painting to notice the nervous quirk of her mouth. His hands were covered in paint, his arms splattered with it. There was a smudge of neon purple on his nose. Her heart fluttered.

After a while, Sasha appeared to let Eugene know that the bathing area was free. He nodded, intent on putting the final touches on his design.

"Thank you, Miss Williams."

Mason peered over his shoulder as he finished up. Despite the fact that he claimed to lack any kind of artistry, it was actually very good, whirls of color depicting a sunny forest that darkened into jagged pines and mountains before melting into the reds and pinks of a desert sunset.

"Our journey," she said, smiling.

"Yes, ma'am," Eugene replied and pecked her on the lips, smudging her nose with paint. "I will return shortly."

When he was gone, Mason turned back to her own painting. A large sweeping "A" garlanded with a tangle of flowers and fire and stars.

"That's nice."

Mason jumped, smearing a line of blue through one of the flames as she whipped around.

Rick raised an eyebrow. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, coughing to clear the nervous squeak from her voice.

"For Alexandria, I'm guessing?" he said.

"And the train car. But I'm not sure if that's what we are anymore," she confessed. "Alexandria, I mean."

"Yeah, I've been thinking a lot about that myself."

He sat down on the ground, and after a moment she found the courage to sit next to him. There was a beat of silence. She stared straight ahead, wishing she would either think of something to say or spontaneously combust.

"You know before we met you, we lived with Hershel on his farm," Rick said. "You've heard this story, right?"

She nodded. "Beth told me."

He nodded, his eyes growing a bit distant with memory. "The night we left- we were _forced_ to leave- my friend...Shane." He paused, and the way he said the name, the complicated curl of his tone, tightened something in her chest.

"I suppose you've probably heard by now what happened," he went on.

"Not everything," she replied. "I know you had to kill him. I know he put the group in danger."

"He did. He wanted me dead. I was in his way, and he tried to do it that night." Rick twitched his head, lips thin. "That was the night I knew for certain that we were all infected. He turned without being bitten. And then everything happened and we were run off the farm, and suddenly we were homeless, lost in a world of the dead. Everyone was scared, everyone was..."

He paused. Mason could picture it all too clearly, the fear and uncertainty. The eyes casting about desperately for someone, anyone, to lead them.

"I knew the role I had to play. I knew I had to keep them safe."

Mason stiffened. A strange feeling came over her, a bit like kinship but darker.

"They were going to hate me for it, but every other choice I'd made had ended up being the wrong one. I figured I wasn't the good guy anymore anyway. So they may as well hate me, so long as I was keeping them alive."

He glanced at her then.

"Right?"

"Right," she rasped.

"I know why you did what you did. I don't just understand, I've _been_ there. I know about...being an island in your own pain."

She blinked, remembering how she'd told him the very same thing two years ago back at the prison, after Lori died. Rick wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

"We love you, Mama Death," he said, chuckling a bit at the name. "I hope you know that."

"I- I do," she mumbled.

"Well, it's just that you won't even look at me anymore."

"They always tell you not to make eye contact with angry bears."

"I'm not angry with you, Mason. You were trying to keep us safe, you just...lost your mind a little bit doing it." He smiled wryly, and she knew then- truly _understood_ , deep in the marrow of her bones- that she was not alone. Rick had been where she had been. And that was a comfort.

"I know the rest of us didn't make it easy for you," he went on. "Everything after the war was a bit of a clusterfuck."

"Wasn't it, though," she muttered.

Gently, he kissed the top of her head. "Thank you for all you did for us, Mason," he murmured. "I don't underestimate at all what it cost."

Her eyes burned a bit. "Thanks."

"You really do make a good leader, you know."

She huffed a laugh. "Right."

"Hey, I'm serious," Rick replied. "Why do you think I left you in charge of Alexandria all those months back?"

"Oh, yeah, I did a _great_ job. The Wolves only slaughtered half of us."

"If you remember, my plan went south pretty quick that day," he said. "We can't prevent every misfortune, we can only handle them. That's what _you_ do. You handle things."

She didn't feel as though she handled anything, at least not without a couple of severe mental breakdowns first. But she wasn't feeling pathetic enough to confess as much, so instead she said, "Well, shucks, maybe I should just take over permanent-like. I can be the new sheriff. You can retire to the sunny beaches of SoCal, sip on lemonade while you work on your tan?"

Rick grinned. "That sounds like a pretty sweet deal."

"Right? I gotta have your revolver though. I want to look the part."

"You'll have to duel me for it. But if you win it from me, its allegiance will switch to you."

"...Was that. Was that a _Harry Potter_ reference?"

Rick's eyes twinkled, but before he could reply Eugene reappeared, freezing when he saw Rick.

"Uh." He ran a nervous hand through his wet hair. "Hello."

"Hello, Eugene," Rick said, amusement clear in his voice. "You know, it is _uncanny_ the resemblance you bear to a deer in headlights."

Mason stifled a snort. Eugene blushed.

"Oh, well, I- I just wasn't-"

"Relax, I promise I'm not gonna hit you. I'm not really in the mood for Mason to murder me anyway."

"Wise man," she said.

"Hey, Mason?"

Maggie leaned into the makeshift room, bouncing a grumpy-looking Gracie in her arms.

"You mind watchin' her for a few minutes while I clean up a bit?"

"Oh, yeah, sure."

Mason took Gracie, whose face was pinched like she might start wailing at any minute.

"I'm gonna take her for a little walk," Mason said to Rick and Eugene. "No rumbling while I'm gone, alright? I get really cranky when I miss a good cage match."

Eugene looked rather alarmed that she was leaving the two of them alone. Rick, however, simply nodded and said, "Scout's honor."

So, rocking Gracie gently in her arms, she set off through the neon tunnels, singing under her breath.

 **Eugene**

It was an understatement to say that he was nervous, but he tried not to let it show on his face. His racing mind, however, couldn't conjure up a single thing to say that didn't sound completely ridiculous and it was Rick who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Eugene."

Eugene blinked. "Oh, that's... If I remember correctly, you already apologized, so there really is no need-"

"Yeah, I was kind of a prick about it," Rick replied. "But you need to know. I _am_ sorry, truly. What you did for us... We are lucky to have you."

The same thing he'd said to Eugene that night, before Negan changed everything. He glanced at his feet, unsure of what to say. Rick just patted him on the shoulder and made to leave.

"Um. Actually, Rick..."

Rick turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"There is something... What I mean is, I have- a question..."

Eugene fidgeted a moment before reaching into his rucksack, down to the very bottom, where he'd sewn a tiny, extra pocket. It was so well-hidden that no one would have found it unless they'd known it was there. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out what he'd stashed inside and showed it to Rick.

The little silver ring reflected back the radiant colors surrounding them. The diamond glinted like the multitude of stars overhead.

Astonishment lit Rick's eyes, followed by a slow grin.

"Well, I'll tell you, I'm honored, but I was kinda hoping to get a ring from Michonne instead," he said.

Eugene's knees shook with relief. "Shit. There go my hopes for our future."

Rick laughed. "How long have you had that?"

"My hopes for our future?"

"The _ring_."

"A while," Eugene admitted.

A while. A while as in months. A while as in when Alexandria was still Alexandria, and everything was good, and they had no clue who Negan or the Saviors were. When Mason had brought up marrying him back at the mountain house, he'd been afraid she'd finally discovered the ring. Fortunately for him he was excellent at keeping secrets.

"So? Why am I not hearing wedding bells?"

"Well, funny thing, Rick, I don't know if you know this but I am a coward. Also, the timing has never felt quite right."

"That's nerves, son," Rick said. "Guess I don't have much room to talk, though. It took me a year before I worked up the nerve to ask my first wife, Lori. Course that probably also had to do with the fact that we'd just graduated high school and had no idea what the hell we were doing. But Mason loves you. I think it's pretty obvious to everyone that she wants your last name, I mean... You didn't _really_ think that Mason Porter thing was just a case of fumble tongue?"

Eugene couldn't help smiling a little. "No, sir. But between everything going to hell in a hand basket, my executive dysfunction and a laundry list of insecurities, I just...have not been granted the luxury of confidence in my timing."

"That'll come."

"Yes, I know... But, additionally, Rick, um...there is...there is a _procedure_ to this," Eugene said, frowning as he struggled to get it out. "Or at least there used to be, and perhaps it is stupid to carry on tradition simply because it _is_ tradition, but this one- means something to me. And it will mean something to Mason."

Rick nodded, clearly not following but curious all the same. "Okay."

"I...want your blessing, Rick. Because you are more like a father to Mason than hers ever was, and I know that's how she sees you. It wouldn't feel right if I didn't ask you."

There was a long pause in which Rick stared at him, like he couldn't quite decipher the words. When eventually he nodded, he glanced away briefly, but not before Eugene caught him blinking his suddenly over-bright eyes.

"Well, you have my blessing, Eugene," he said. "You don't need it, but you have it all the same."

"Thank you," Eugene murmured. "Truly."

Rick coughed gruffly and waved a hand. "Don't thank me. Now you better hide that rock before Mason comes back."

"Yes, sir."

 **Mason**

"Is she asleep?" Maggie whispered, looking lovingly at the bundle in Mason's arms.

"Yes, ma'am," Mason replied. "Just so you know, she responds really well to Pierce the Veil songs. They soothe her right to sleep."

"Screamo in lullaby form. Got it."

"Oh, they're not even screamo, you square."

Maggie smiled, taking Gracie from Mason. "Thanks for watchin' her."

"Anytime. I love that demanding little cupcake."

"So you guys comin' back to the heart?"

Mason hesitated. It was where they'd all bedded down the night before, huddled in a warm, vigilant group, but tonight...tonight she was thinking of something a little different.

A faint heat crept into her cheeks. "O-oh, um, I don't know. I mean we're still painting and stuff. We might- we might be a while."

Slowly, Maggie nodded. The glint of understanding in her eyes made Mason blush more furiously.

"Okay. Well, you know where we'll be if ya'll decide to join us later." She smirked mischievously. "I would tell you to have fun, but I'm sure that's unnecessary." And she sauntered away before Mason could stammer out a response.

Mason was still blushing when she returned to the makeshift bedroom. Rick was gone and Eugene was drawing shapes on the car hood with the remainder of their paint.

She paused for just a moment, overwhelmed by a wave of nerves. She felt her heart quite distinctly at every pulse point in her body, scorching her blood.

"So I have decided that I very much like painting," Eugene said, his voice bright with enthusiasm. "I think once we find a place to settle down, we should scavenge for our own paint and other artistic mediums. Or perhaps we could make some ourselves. I will be the first to admit that I am not terribly proficient in right brain application but I have always wanted to be."

He turned to smile at Mason, and his expression was so sweet her stomach did flips.

"You're lucky to be so creative," he said.

She snorted. "I'm not really."

"You're a writer. You create your own worlds. That there is a talent to be envied."

Then he tipped his head to the side, blinking at her expression.

"Is something wrong? You look...anxious."

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice came out higher than she intended.

He frowned. "I thought I taught you to lie better than that."

Shakily, she sighed. "There's nothing _wrong_ ," she said, reaching for her rucksack. "I just...found something."

"Okay... What?"

Before she could change her mind, she retrieved the box she'd found earlier, her heart pounding a mile a minute, and held it out to show him.

His eyes widened.

"C-condoms?" He swallowed. "That's- that's- yes. That's a...good."

She let out a nervous giggle. "That's a good? You're so articulate."

He ran a hand through his hair, which he was finally letting grow out again, and grumbled, "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, well, I thought...maybe we could...you know. Put them to good use."

She fidgeted while she spoke, looking everywhere but at Eugene, and goddamn if it didn't feel like the very first time all over again. Her whole body was electric with anticipation and fear, her thoughts moving so quickly she could barely keep up with them.

Eugene stared at her for a moment. "Mason..." he said. "Are you sure?"

For a moment, all she could picture were the last few times they'd tried, and how she hadn't been able to go through with it. How the stain Negan had left on her soul had held her back every time, and how she'd hated herself for it.

But Eugene had been so understanding each time, so patient, had held her while she cried and told her he loved her and...

The war was over.

The war was over and this was the man she loved.

So she nodded, tossing her rucksack aside and stepping toward him. "I'm sure," she murmured. "I'm sure."

She took his face in one hand and kissed him, gently at first. Her breath was a sigh against his lips. Her free hand climbed his back, tugging insistently at his shirt. She wanted it off. She wanted to see him...

Her tongue traced the shape of his mouth and he groaned. Suddenly his teeth were grazing her bottom lip, his hands coming up to cradle her face, smearing her with paint.

Desire flooded her; her veins glowed with it. Breathless, she whispered, "I want you. I've wanted you for so long."

"I'm yours," he whispered, his hands clutching her waist, his thumbs stroking her stomach...lower...

She _needed_ him.

Hastily she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, continuing to plant kisses on his mouth, his chin, his jaw. He was hard against her, pressing at her thigh, and god, _god_ , she just wanted to _feel_ him-

He was quick to remove her shirt, too, but then he seized her face again, like he couldn't bear to not be kissing her. She stepped back, pulling him with her, until she was lying on the hood of the car. His warmth enveloped her, the paint slick against her back. She moved a bit to let him unhook her bra, which he did in record time.

She raised an eyebrow. "You've gotten really good at that."

He pressed his nose to hers and said with utmost seriousness, "Lock-picking is well within my skill set."

Then they both were laughing, squirming as they helped each other out of the rest of their clothes. And when he was naked, when she finally laid eyes on him, her blood flamed with lust.

But he hesitated, eyeing her questioningly while he hovered above. Remembering all those times they'd tried before. Conscious, always, of the demons that haunted her.

She touched his face.

"I want you," she whispered. "Please."

His eyes welled with pain, longing, love. "Okay, sweetheart," he murmured. "Okay."

He leaned down to press his lips to her neck, and with a sigh she gave herself over entirely.

He took his time with her. He worshiped every inch of her, from her temples to her collarbone, her wrists and all the scars that mapped her skin like constellations. He placed the softest of kisses on her eyelids, and the intimacy of it, the tenderness, set her to glowing like starlight.

He worked his way up and down her body, counting her ribs with his teeth, kissing her stomach. She arched her spine at the feel of his lips on her breast, his tongue flicking against her nipple.

"Eugene," she gasped and reached for him, but he stopped her, shaking his head.

"No, ma'am," he said, his voice sultry. "You come first."

Then he winked, and before she could roll her eyes at the pun he was hooking her legs over his shoulders and kneeling before her.

Kneeling-

 _"On your knees, Mason, like a good girl."_

No.

No.

She was _done_ thinking of him. Done giving herself away piece by piece to memories, to hauntings, to the shadow of her nemesis.

Negan was gone. The war was over.

This and every other thought rushed from her mind the moment she felt Eugene between her legs. Gentle. _Teasing_.

It was just the barest sweep of his tongue at first, but the taunting strokes built in intensity like a summer storm, and she thought she might catch fire, she thought she might burst out of her skin, and he worked her so artfully and god, _god_ -

She squirmed when his tongue slipped inside her, his hand reaching up to thumb the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

" _Fuck_ ," she cried, tangling her fingers in his hair, and she felt his answering laugh hum through her.

He didn't stop when release found her. He stayed right where he was, licking and kissing until she climaxed a second time, and then a third, and only when she was limp and trembling with pleasure did he rise from the ground. Looking pleased.

Smug.

She scowled, though it felt weak on her face. "Come. Here," she growled.

"Yes, ma'am."

They made love on the hood of the car, surrounded by neon and starlight, until she thought she might be dissolving into that radiance. Until all she could see were the stars wheeling above her head, until all she could feel was Eugene, just him, finally _him_.

They were celestial, limitless. Visions in the desert.

~m~

"When'd you learn that new trick with your tongue?"

"Oh, I've always been able to do it, I just never thought to employ it in... _that_ method."

They lay side by side on the hood of the car, still naked, covered in paint. Speckles of color dusting their eyelashes, luminous hand prints betraying just where and how they'd touched each other.

Neither of them could stop smiling. It felt exactly like the first time, and she supposed in a way it _was_ the first time all over again. She certainly felt reborn.

Eugene glanced toward the east. "Sun'll be coming up soon," he said. "How do you propose we spend tomorrow night? Keep in mind that I am totally and indisputably happy to replicate tonight's exploits."

Mason laughed. "That makes two of us."

In truth, she could have spent the rest of her days in his arms, making love and stargazing. But...

"This isn't home," she sighed. "I think maybe tomorrow we head out. We'll have all the provisions we need to make it to California."

"The others will want to stay," he said.

" _I_ want to stay," Mason admitted. "But our journey isn't over. Besides, this place isn't just for us."

Eugene was silent for a moment before saying, "We don't have anything to leave behind."

"We'll come back," she replied firmly. Even if it was just her, she intended to return, to give back. This place had saved them all. It was not just a shrine, it was a lighthouse. She wanted to contribute to that light.

The way he looked at her then, like she was a flower growing in the middle of a drought, made her heart flutter.

"You sound hopeful," he said.

"I am," she said, in a voice that was quiet but strong. "I didn't think I would be again."

After everything, after the cell and the lies and the war, she'd rarely allowed herself to hope, and when she did she felt it like a half-remembered dream. But now...she _felt_ it. It was attainable again, she could have almost reached out and plucked it straight from the air.

She also felt, distinctly, a pinch of apprehension in her chest.

"I'm afraid, too," she admitted. "To be...hopeful. I don't want to trick myself into being happy again, only for it all to get taken away."

Like the prison, like Alexandria. She sighed, giving Eugene a wry smile.

"I think I need to ease myself into it. Being happy. Otherwise I'll get fucking whiplash from all these goddamn emotions."

Eugene chuckled, but she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. "We'll take happiness slowly then," he said, nuzzling her neck. "And I don't know about you, but I think tonight was a pretty good start."

She hummed in agreement and they turned to face each other, scooting closer until there was not an inch of space left between. She began dotting him with slow, idle kisses, looping her legs through his.

"By the way, thank you five times," she murmured.

"Five?" he repeated and then blinked in understanding. " _Oh_. You don't have to thank me. I enjoyed myself, too, you know."

Something hard pressed against her lower stomach.

She arched an eyebrow, grinning slyly. "You wanna enjoy yourself again?" she asked, walking her fingertips up his spine so that he writhed against her.

"Miss Reynolds," he grunted. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

And so they rolled together, kissing and laughing and striving to get closer, until they rolled right off the edge of the car. They didn't bother getting up again. Mason crawled clumsily to her rucksack to retrieve another condom, before laying an amused Eugene down beneath her. She slid the condom on, then slid onto him herself, swallowing up the sound of his gasp with her mouth.

She smoldered as she rode him, rocking her hips with calculated grace until he was crying her name. The paint on their bodies glowed in the last darkness of the fading night, a kaleidoscope of embers paling with the stars. Every breath, every cell transcendental, her entire body felt like a citadel for starlight.

She had never felt more real. She had never felt more like a dream.

She melted into him, and he into her, just as the gentle embrace of the night melted into dawn.

~m~

When she awoke the next evening, it was all she could do not to launch herself at Eugene and repeat the previous night. From the way he kept glancing at her, the hunger in his eyes, she was not alone in this desire.

But they forced themselves to be good, helping each other scrub away their most damning paint blemishes. Admittedly this took every ounce of restraint they possessed and by the end Mason was wishing fervently that they had access to colder water.

"Do I look presentable?" she asked once she was dressed. "Do I still look like I rocked your world last night?"

Eugene's lips twitched, fighting a smile. "You look presentable in the sense that you are fully-dressed and relatively paint-less, yes. But do I still want to tear those clothes off with my teeth and devour you? Also yes."

She blushed from head to toe. "You are _so_ not helping."

The others were already awake, gathered in the heart around a small, lively campfire. Everyone looked up when she and Eugene made to join them, but they both ground to a halt at the expressions on their faces- every single one looking thoroughly, deviously amused. Heat climbed the back of her neck.

"Morning, you two," Tanner drawled. "We didn't see much of you after last night's painting session. Ya'll get up to anything special?"

The others snickered. Mason caught Carol turning to whisper something to Sasha, who clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Rosita, innocently examining her fingernails, said, "Last night we decided to scavenge a bit more. Scored a few cool weapons." Then her eyes flicked up. "How about you, Eugene? You score last night, too?"

Mason could practically feel Eugene blush in response. The snickers became full-blown laughter. Mason scowled when, from the back of her mind, she heard Abraham's obnoxious cackle.

"Alright," she grumbled.

"Yeah, you guys missed it. While we were out scavenging, we also discovered that this place is haunted," Tanner said, his grin wicked and triumphant. "We kept hearing this _moaning_ -"

" _Alright_ ," Mason snapped. "Ya'll cocksuckers can shut the hell up now."

"Oh, _we're_ the cocksuckers? So you didn't-"

Before Tanner could finish, Ashlee kicked him. "Don't you ever know when to shut your fat mouth?"

"Thanks, Ash. You always have my back," Mason said, holding her chin high despite her blazing red face. She and Eugene had been so dizzied by finally being together, and so concerned with the _physical_ evidence...

 _Ha! Ya'll brainless as copulatin' rabbits,_ Merle crowed.

 _Shut. The fuck. Up._

"C'mon, Mama Death," Dave said, grinning and patting the ground next to him. "We saved you and Eep some breakfast."

Mason nodded, taking Eugene's hand and settling down next to Dave. She stiffened, however, when she heard Jesus's voice behind her.

"We figured you probably burned all your calories last night. _Painting_ , of course. Putting the final strokes on, yeah?"

"If you say one more word, you New Testament halfwit, I will stick my boot so far up your ass you'll be choking on my laces."

But the teasing didn't stop, and in truth she didn't mind as much as she let on. Everything had an air of unreality to it, life suspended in impossible happiness. Her embarrassment was trivial in comparison. She and Eugene parried the others' jokes with their own snarky remarks while they ate breakfast and the twilight deepened to full darkness.

A part of her wished they could stay.

Eventually the conversation turned to their journey, to what needed to be done. As predicted, there were suggestions to stay. But Charlie remained quiet, drawing into herself like a closing flower, and Dray, of course, was quick to notice. He argued calmly but firmly in favor of completing their quest, of leaving the Oasis for other survivors to find and draw from just as they had, and perhaps, if they ran out of options, returning to call it home.

"Survival is survival, I get that," he said. "But you have to admit...this place is special. People don't do this kind of thing anymore."

"I happen to be in agreement," Eugene spoke up. "Going by the laws of the new world, this place shouldn't exist. Altruism of this volume is miraculous and I think that we should respect that without this Oasis, we would be in a far less agreeable place."

"That's all well and good," Carol said. "But we can't just base our decisions on sentiment and symbolism. We need a place where we can live and be safe."

"Who says we can't find that in California?"

"I'd rather deal in absolutes."

Everyone had their own opinions to voice, but in the end the general consensus was to finish what they'd started. Their home could be anywhere in the world, anywhere at all, as long as they were together.

So they set to work gathering their supplies and freeing what running vehicles they could find from the structure. They took only three, a truck, an SUV and a van- just enough room for everyone and their possessions. And the whole time, Mason tried hard to ignore the sadness pinching her gut. This place wasn't home, she felt that deep in her bones, but a piece of her was always going to exist here. She supposed that was part of the point.

Only when everyone else had boarded their respective cars did Mason perch herself on the tailgate of the truck, hand-in-hand with Eugene. They dangled their feet over the edge as the caravan started out, the dust kissing their feet, the stars heavy above. The Oasis became a neon aurora on the eastern horizon, shrinking with the distance.

"Goodbye, glow cloud," Mason murmured.

Eugene chuckled and squeezed her hand. She quivered at the tender stroke of his lips against her neck.

" _M_ _a reine de la nuit_ ," he murmured. " _Ma précieuse étoile_."

"You know I don't speak baguette."

"My queen of the night," he translated. "My precious starlight."

The receding splendor blurred a bit. Mason wiped at her eyes with her free hand.

"Stop being so romantic or I swear to god I will jump your bones right here, right now."

"Mmm." He kept brushing his nose, his mouth, along her throat, stirring her blood like embers. "I double dare you."

And she realized then that it was not just his longing for her. It was also to keep the sadness, the fear, at bay. To keep kindled the gentle fire that had reawakened inside her.

The hope.

She smiled. "You're my favorite thing in this world, Eugene Porter."

He lifted his head, enough for her to see the reflection of starlight in his eyes.

"You're my favorite thing, too, Mason Reynolds. In this world and all the others."

She rested her head on his shoulder to watch as the Oasis became a faraway nebula in the yawning scope of the desert.

They were going to find it.

She wasn't sure what it was yet- a happy ending, or maybe a beginning. Maybe there was no difference. But...

It was their's.

It was waiting for them.

NOTE: Just a quick little tidbit, the Oasis was actually inspired by a real place in Nevada, the International Car Forest of the Last Church (at least the car part was). It's really kind of cool and I just couldn't resist its aesthetic. Anyway! Hope ya'll enjoyed this one. Until next time, much love.


	21. The End of All Things

Hello, ya'll! So there are some important twists in this chapter that I'm pretty excited about and that are going to heavily influence what comes next. We also get another little glimpse into how fucked up Alpha's life was before all this, so that's cool(?) lol. Today's chapter song is the absolutely _gorgeous_ "The End of All Things" by the incredibly talented Panic! at the Disco. As always, thank you guys so much for your reviews and support, ya'll are the best and I really can't say it enough. I'm pretty excited about the next chapter (actually the next few chapters) so I hope to have it out soon. Until then, please let me know what you think!

21\. The End of All Things

 **Mason**

Charlie's old neighborhood was an absolute pit, and according to her and the other Misfits it did not look much different than it had pre-apocalypse. A few walkers meandered aimlessly through the street, though there was something about them that seemed sad. Lost.

Charlie stood on the edge of the broken suburb and breathed deeply. "Ah, yes, the smell of despair. I'm home."

Her voice was perfectly even, sharp with sarcasm, but her fists were clenched tight at her sides. Afraid. So Mason rested her chin on Charlie's shoulder and said, "I'm surprised you can smell anything over your own stink. You ever considered using soap?"

"I've considered cramming it in your smart mouth."

"That's not very nice. I'm just trying to help. You know there's also this thing called perfume, maybe you could try-"

Charlie turned, swiping at Mason, who jumped away. Grinning, she continued dancing just out of reach, dodging Charlie's punches.

"Yeah, they make it in, like, a thousand different scents. Deodorant might be a good idea, too- h-hey!" Mason squirmed away when Charlie finally managed to drill her fingers into her ribs.

Charlie's mouth was quirked in a reluctant smile. "You can stop projecting your insecurities onto me, Pigpen. What did your face look like again under all that dirt?"

"Ladies, ladies," Dray said, coming up to wrap his arms around both of them. "Let's get some perspective here. We _all_ stink. Together."

Mason glanced up at him. "That was very inspirational, thank you."

"No signs of life from the north perimeter," Eugene interrupted, appearing from the right with Dave and Renee.

"Or the west," Daryl murmured on their left, flanked by Tanner and Ashlee.

"We haven't seen anything, either," Mason replied.

Daryl snorted. "Yeah, no wonder. Can't imagine anyone wantin' to live in this place."

Charlie glared at the ground and Mason threw Daryl an exasperated glance.

Too late he realized what he'd said. He blinked, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I mean-"

But Charlie cut him off with a harsh laugh. "Yeah, no one ever wanted to live here _before_ the end of the world, either," she said and strode forward before anyone could respond. Dray followed after her.

Mason turned, pointing stringently at Daryl. " _Your_ mouth stays shut for the rest of the day."

"Yes, ma'am..."

Quietly they trailed after Dray and Charlie. Eugene informed Rick via their walkie talkie that they were heading in, and that the rest of the family, who were waiting nearby, should converge on the area. As they walked, they kept an eye out for any signs of the living. The walkers they took down didn't seem to have much life in them, as though there was a shortage of food for them here. Which either posed really well for Charlie's family, or...

Mason brushed the thought from her mind and tried to focus on her task, but as she was driving her fire iron through the skull of an exceptionally pitiful walker, Eugene caught her eye. The doubt there made her stomach pinch.

She had seen that doubt before- in the others, in Daryl mostly- and even more so now that they'd actually made it to L.A. She knew he had little faith that they would find Charlie's sister. In fact, he didn't believe one iota that they would.

"That doesn't mean she ain't alive," he'd said one night when the other Misfits had begun looking...prickly. "But three years is a long ass time. If anyone came lookin' for me in Georgia, they'd be in for a helluva disappointment."

He had never voiced these doubts in front of Charlie herself, but she wasn't stupid. She knew he was skeptical, and that he wasn't the only one. But she had remained steadfast in her own conviction- if not that she would find Naomi, then that she had to _try_. The other Misfits had all lost their families- either before the outbreak, or after, at the mountain house. Mason thought of all the times she'd been separated from her own family, and how it would have driven her insane, absolutely out of her mind, if she hadn't found some sort of closure.

 _Oh, really?_

The voice came from the back of her mind. It did not belong to any spirit, but to some small, insidious part of herself.

 _What about Gina?_

She flinched.

But that was different. Because if Gina really _was_ alive...if she was that Wolf, or that psychotic bitch that had nearly killed Rosita, or both...

Mason didn't want to know. It still made her feel unsteady just considering it.

 _That's behind us,_ she thought firmly. _Forget it. Forget it._

At least she had not lost her capacity for denial.

Charlie led them right to the house where she and Naomi had lived with that bastard, Chris, where he had beaten both of them nearly to death, where Charlie had been forced to kill him. There was no hesitation, no vulnerability in the steel of her spine, as she marched up to the front door and pushed it open with the muzzle of her gun. Mason wondered if there was an inch of that confidence that was real.

Dray, Mason, Eugene and Daryl were quick to follow, guns raised as they scoped their surroundings. The others fanned out to guard the perimeter of the little shabby building. The house itself was even more rundown than the outside, littered with empty cans and stained sheets and walker blood. Evidence that someone had indeed lived there for a while after the outbreak...

But the cans were rusted. The sheets were covered in a thick layer of dust. The walker blood was brown and flaky with age. Daryl glanced at Mason, unsurprised but disappointed all the same.

They met Charlie and Dray in the kitchen, both of whom were standing over a dark stain on the linoleum. Blood, some of it trailing away from the larger spot as though someone had dragged a body away...

"She buried him," Charlie said, her voice brittle. Clipped. And indeed behind her, through a smudged sliding glass door, Mason spotted a grave in the backyard.

A wooden cross.

Something flashed in her mind, so brief she could not cling to it, but forceful enough that her heart jolted. Deja vu, but fiercer. Like a knife.

"Can you track her?" Charlie demanded. She didn't look up from the blood, but Daryl didn't question whether she was talking to him.

"Charlie," he murmured. "No one's been here in a long time. A year, at least, I'd say."

 _He's bein' generous,_ Merle said. _This bitch split two years ago, easy._

"Can you track her?" Charlie repeated, jaw clenched, voice like flint.

Daryl shook his head. "I ain't a miracle worker. Any trace of her there might've been, the wind, the rain, the dead...they've already erased it."

Charlie was silent for a moment. Dray touched the back of her neck, and her eyes flickered to his before she shrugged away.

"There's one more place I know she would have gone," she said. "After that, it'll just be a crapshoot."

"After that," Eugene said, his voice understanding but firm, "we will need to establish a home base. We can branch out our search efforts from there, but we cannot remain vagrant in a city so overrun by the dead."

"He's right," Mason said, noting the glint in Charlie's eyes. "We'll keep looking. But we need to be smart about it."

Eugene radioed Rick to let him know the situation. When the Misfits trailed out of the ghetto, the others were waiting for them, looking tired and on edge.

It had taken them two days to reacclimate to waking in the morning and sleeping at night. Though it felt strange now to go about their business under the sun- Mason herself missed their nocturnal lifestyle more than she'd expected- they'd all agreed it was safer to switch back. Even though their risk of running into other people was heightened, there were too many unknown variables to contend with in a pitch black city.

Dray led the caravan of graffitied cars to whatever destination Charlie had in mind. She hadn't told him where to go, hadn't needed to. He navigated silently, taking side streets and alleys when cars clogged their path. Charlie sat in the passenger seat, closemouthed, staring angrily out the window. Mason, Eugene and Daryl sat squished in the seats behind them, gauging her uneasily. Charlie wasn't stupid. She was cunning, intelligent, tactical, but...she also had a temper. A whole entire storm system she sometimes couldn't leash.

Mason peered around when they pulled to a stop outside a multi-story apartment building. It might have once been a nice place to live, but the apocalypse had ravaged it. There was evidence of looters in the broken windows of the lowest level, evidence of death in the blood splattered on the outer walls. The back of Mason's neck prickled. The whole place looked eerie, empty. Haunted.

The Misfits clustered around Charlie, eyeing the building grimly.

"Twenty-third floor, right?" Dave said.

Charlie just nodded.

So, cautiously, sticking close together, everyone ventured inside- all except Gabriel, Carl and Enid, who were staying behind to watch Judith and Gracie. Eugene left them with the walkie talkie, in case anything went south while they were all separated.

It was clear as soon as they walked inside that this place had once been a refuge. There were cots and old blankets strewn about in the lobby, clotheslines strung from wall to wall. But the stairwell was thick with the stench of death and ash. Clouds of dust stirred beneath their feet, making Mason's nose twitch. She pinched her nose to stifle a sneeze, but a squeak still escaped her.

"Adorable," Jesus whispered.

"Bite me," she hissed back.

Eugene shushed them both, but his eyes glimmered with amusement.

The hallway they finally entered was even worse, dark and ethereal with the haze of a fire long dead. Foreboding scraped a razor down Mason's nerves. The corridor was something out of a horror movie. A couple yards ahead, the smoke-blackened floor yawned open like a sinister mouth, the wall to its right completely eaten away by the fire that had raged through here however long ago.

But Charlie stopped several doors away from the hole. The Misfits flocked around her. The others edged toward the hole, spacing themselves out as the floor beneath them groaned.

"Hey," Dray murmured, pushing his face briefly into Charlie's hair. "Fuck it, remember?"

She smiled fleetingly, and something passed between the two of them that made Mason feel abruptly as though she were intruding.

"Yeah. Fuck it."

Charlie took a deep breath, banishing the tremor from her fingers before she reached out to open the door.

Or tried to. There was quite a bit of resistance apparently, as she had to shove several times just to move it a few inches. The other Misfits moved to help-

And leapt backward as walkers flooded toward them, surging over the gooey remains of several corpses lying on the against the door- gutted and severed, but still alive.

" _Fuck_ ," Mason hissed, gunning the nearest ones down before trading her rifle for her fire poker.

Eugene and Daryl scrunched on either side of her instinctively, and the three of them became the first line of defense as the walkers filled the hallway.

Cutting them off from the stairwell.

"The floor," Eugene said tightly, and indeed as they all backed up- coming invariably closer to the hole- the floor cracked and shuddered.

"In here!"

They turned to see Rick holding open a door on the left side of the hall, just a foot from the chasm. The others began hurrying inside. Mason turned back to the walkers to try to hold them off, but Eugene grabbed her arm.

"This floor is going with or without us," he said.

And he was right, she realized. If they stayed to fight the walkers, they'd just end up plummeting however many levels to certain injury or worse.

So she turned, herding the others toward safety, hurling walkers out of the way when they got too close.

"Naomi?"

Charlie's voice brought Mason up short. She looked up to see her frozen in the middle of the hall, staring at the walkers lurching toward her. At one in particular, who was so ravaged Mason wasn't sure at first how Charlie could tell it was her sister, except...

Except it's stomach was distended in a strange, impossible manner, flaps of skin pulled taut and then severed by prying hands. Its guts and everything else inside had already been eaten, but the way its skin hung, a grotesque mockery of- of-

Pregnant. It had been pregnant when it had turned.

A chill of horror washed over Mason. Her eyes flickered back to Charlie.

The look on her face...

"Charlie," Mason rasped. But she didn't seem to hear her, too sickened, too horrified to do anything but gape at her sister's rotting silhouette.

Mason and Dray rushed for her at the same time, pushing through the walkers to get to her before Naomi could. Eugene, who had been distracted yanking a walker off of Daryl, lunged toward them, too.

The fire-worn floor whined under the movement and weight of so many. Mason reached Charlie just in time to shove her toward Eugene, who dragged her through the door Rick- busy as he was fighting off a walker- struggled to hold open. Once Charlie was inside, Eugene reached back for Mason and Dray-

But the floor gave another hideous protest before it began to crumble. Rick heaved Eugene through the door, both of them just narrowly avoiding the fatal drop.

And it _was_ fatal, Mason noticed amid the tangle of her panic, grabbing Dray's hand and stumbling backward. The collapsing floor seemed almost to chase them as they retreated, revealing a punishing six-story drop; the walkers the floor took with it splattered on impact, spraying the rubble with viscera and limbs.

Adrenaline was the only thing that saved them, lending them enough frantic strength to barrel through the walkers, which, completely oblivious to their perilous footing, continued to converge.

One of them very nearly took Mason over the edge, latching onto her leg as the floor fell away beneath it.

Mason slammed down hard, catching herself painfully on the fringe of the expanded chasm. The weight of the walker pulled at her leg, and for one terrifying moment she was sure it would pull her down, but with a well-aimed kick she was able to dislodge it.

Then Dray was there, seizing her arms and hauling her up. As he did, a few remaining walkers fell on them, snapping their jaws.

"Oh, fuck off," Mason puffed, driving her knife through the temples of two while Dray dispatched the others.

After, once they were sure they were safe- or at least, relatively- they sagged shoulder to shoulder, gasping for breath. The floor beneath them seemed steady enough, untouched by the fire. Down below, the walkers whose brains remained intact snarled at their lost prey, though most of them resembled a smelly stew among the wreckage.

"Well," Dray murmured. "That was a clusterfuck."

"Mason! Dray!"

She glanced up at the sound of Eugene's frantic voice and spotted him leaning out of the door, which now looked out over a gaping abyss.

An abyss which separated them by at least fifteen feet.

"We're okay," Mason croaked. "We shit our pants, but we're okay."

Dray huffed a breathless laugh. She saw his hands shaking and realized hers were, too.

"What about you? Is everyone okay on your end?"

"Everyone's fine, except...except Heath," Eugene replied. "A walker took him down and he hit his head pretty hard. He's unconscious."

Mason scrambled to her feet, like she thought she might propel herself over the chasm with the sheer force of her worry alone.

"He hit his head? He wasn't bit, was he?"

"No, no. Denise and Renee are looking after him now."

Mason bit her lip, wishing desperately that she were in that room with them, though she knew there was likely little she could do to help.

"How's Charlie doing?" Dray asked.

"She's..." Eugene trailed off before saying, "Unharmed."

Mason swallowed hard, feeling her stomach churn sickeningly. Charlie's sister...the walkers had gotten her while she was _pregnant_. They'd... _eaten_ her, stomach first, they'd eaten-

She couldn't think about it. And if _she_ was so torn up about it- for not even knowing her, for not even _liking_ her after she'd chosen her bastard boyfriend over Charlie- she could only imagine what Charlie was feeling.

Someone called to Eugene and he disappeared into the room. Mason and Dray exchanged a glance, but before their fears could get the better of them, Eugene reappeared.

"Denise and Renee think that it would be wise for Heath to remain where he is for now," he said. "Moving him could be detrimental."

Mason couldn't help being reminded of that day by the fire truck, crouching over Eugene for hours, Maggie saying that moving him could make him worse.

She tried to stay calm. "Okay," she said. "Okay. Well...you guys are free from walkers in there, right?"

"We've dispatched all walkers, yes."

"Alright. Keep everybody calm. We're gonna figure out a way to get you guys out safely once Heath wakes up."

He would wake up. He would.

Eugene didn't argue with her.

"Yes, ma'am."

 **Alpha**

"I hate this fucking place."

"I know, Miss."

"I hate these _fucking clothes_."

"I know, Miss."

"I need a _FUCKING_ _DRINK._ "

Murph sighed, but she barely heard the sound over her raging, over her throwing a chair across the derelict coffee shop, over the very loud, very quick thud of her heart. Her throbbing skull felt like a crucible, scorching her thoughts.

They'd been in L.A. for little more than a day, and already she was chafing to burn the whole damn place to the ground. Of course that had less to do with the city itself than it did with its apparent lack of booze, everyone having already drank it or stolen it or used it to start their own fires. Though they'd only explored a fraction of the city, and she was sure there was liquor out there somewhere, Murph had insisted she abandon that particular search.

Deep down she knew he was right. She would need to be stone sober for the _real_ search, except...

Except that lately, sober had been less than welcoming. Sober had been a foray into sporadic madness, and alcohol had been the only thing to mute those strange spasms of unreality.

Angrily she tugged at her collar. Her shirt was too tight, clinging to her body. Too _hot_. Everything was too hot. She wanted out of her skin...

"Distract me," she growled.

Murph furrowed his brows in confusion and she huffed impatiently.

"We're staying here for the night, aren't we? If I have to do it without the sauce, I'm gonna need something else to keep me from ripping your head off your torso."

"What do you suggest I do?" Murph said, pulling his ratty journal from his knapsack and paging distractedly through it.

"I don't know. Tell me a story."

Her tone was dripping with vitriol. Her hands were itching to break something. Withdrawal was a bitch.

"I don't know any stories, Miss," Murph said.

Alpha clenched her teeth. "Well, what about your life before all this? Did you have a wife? Did you have kids?"

She hadn't ever asked before. She'd made it quite clear that she didn't give a shit and Murph had never offered up any information anyway.

But now, the question caught him off guard. She watched unblinkingly as his hands stilled, his crooked little frame going rigid, his eyes drifting slowly up to hers.

"My life before all this," he said, "doesn't matter."

Alpha snorted. "Bullshit. You can't separate yourself from your past. Trust me, I've tried."

His sudden hesitancy intrigued her. She sat cross-legged on the floor before him, for all the world a little kid eager for story time.

"So what shady shit did you do, huh? Don't worry, I won't judge."

"Miss, I really would rather not."

Annoyance boiled in her veins but she made her voice syrupy when she spoke.

"Aw, c'mon. We're _friends_ , aren't we? I mean, after all we've been through, we kinda have to be, right?"

Still, he hesitated. And she was desperate enough for something other than the shakes, the sweat slicking her skin, the nausea like a little greasy ball in her stomach, that she offered up a broken piece of her. Just like she'd said she never would again.

"My mom killed my dad."

She said it matter-of-factly, like she'd never been suspicious of every meal her mother had served her, like she'd never stayed awake for hours watching her locked door, waiting for the knob to turn. Like she'd never seethed in silence that she'd been forced into that paranoia, just like her mother had forced her into everything else.

Murph looked sharply at her but she pretended not to notice.

"I mean, she never came out and said it, and I could never prove it, but I know she did. It was a drug overdose. That wouldn't have come across as a surprise to anyone, but I _knew_ my dad. He wasn't stupid, he was always very, very careful with his... _leisure medication_. Narcotics, all that shit. He never used until after he'd closed a case- he was a lawyer, and a damn good one, that's why he could afford the good shit- and he _never_ used Ambien. I mean, he _did_ , but not for a good time, you know? He just had trouble sleeping."

Alpha pursed her lips, tipping her head to the side. "He didn't have trouble sleeping that night, though... Jesus, my life is like out of some fucked up _Law and Order_ episode. Fucking lame."

"Miss..." Murph breathed. "That's horrible."

She shrugged. After figuring out how to play the game just as well as her mother, after coiling in on herself like a snake awaiting its next strike, she hadn't let herself feel anything about her father's murder for years. She wasn't about to start now.

"It's not like my dad was a great guy or anything. He was only good for taking me out to baseball games every once in a while, complimenting my looks when I refused my mother's all-blonde regime...but that was mostly just to piss her off. Anyway, you better feel pretty damn lucky because I never told that story to anyone. Well, Mason, but only after the outbreak."

Because she would have wanted to do something about it. She would have wanted to bring Alpha's mother to justice, or done something dramatic like asking her to run away from home. And Alpha had never wanted to run away, had never wanted to be _that girl-_ the troubled youth escaping the golden family just to rebel. She had wanted to take her bitch of a mother down, yes, but she'd wanted to do it her own way.

 _And you did, didn't you, my little darling?_

Alpha stiffened. No, no-

 _You were always just like me,_ her mother's voice continued. _Always having to be right, always having to win on your own terms._

 _Fuck off, you psycho hag,_ she thought.

"Either way, Gin- Alpha," Murph said. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Alpha shrugged again. "Shit like that's bound to happen when two unstable assholes- with enough money to replace moral boundaries and who _completely_ loathe each other, mind you- get married."

 _And you wondered why I hated you so much for trying to set me up with all your friends' sons._

 _You were perfectly bred. With your lineage, you could have been anyone's queen-_

 _I'm a queen all on my fucking own. I wasn't gonna let myself be defined by who I marry or how blonde my fucking hair was. I wasn't going to be like you, you pathetic cunt._

 _But you_ are _like me-_

" _No_!" she snapped.

Murph drew back nervously. "Voices again, Miss?"

Alpha ran her nails angrily up and down her arms. "Just one vapid, soul-sucking voice this time."

And maybe he was just as desperate as her to keep the voices- and the violence they brought with them- at bay, because he said, "I was married but I never had kids. We couldn't. My wife...she was sick. Ovarian cancer. They had to remove her uterus and both ovaries, so...we could never conceive. And my wife, she...she was a sweet woman. A good woman. But sometimes she could get a little unsteady. I suppose that's why were good for each other. We were both unsteady."

He laughed, a short, croaky sound, but the sadness in it was obvious.

"Long story short, we weren't approved to be foster parents and...well, it- it broke her heart. She loved children, she always had, and I knew- I knew she had truly lost something."

Briefly he looked down at his hands, like there were words written in his wrinkles.

"And then- and then one day I woke up. And she wasn't there. I was frantic. I looked everywhere, and I was about to call the police when she called me. Frantic. In tears. Babbling about- about how she'd done something awful, she hadn't meant to but she'd done it anyway, and she was just trying to make it right, she was going to make it right, even if they took her to jail."

His chin quivered. He sucked in a sharp breath, tears rolling down his cheeks. Alpha felt an unexpected glimmer of pity intermingled with her disgust.

"Found out later that...she'd gone down to the park down the street from our house. She stole away a four-year-old girl while her parents weren't watching, strapped her into the backseat of our car, and drove off. She got a few miles down the interstate before she panicked and tried to bring her back. I- I was on the phone with her when she crashed. My wife...was killed on impact. The little girl lingered in the hospital a few days before passing away herself."

He broke off then, shaking his head like he couldn't go on any further. Alpha looked away awkwardly, grimacing at the wall. Why the fuck did he have to _cry_? She wanted to tell him to grow a pair, but...

Maybe it was the lack of booze fucking with her head, maybe it was that he'd stuck with her this far through some serious shit, but she said, "I'm sorry that happened to you. That's shitty."

The look he gave her then, the genuine shock, made her instantly regret saying anything. She curled her hands into fists and resisted the urge to punch that look right off his face.

"Thank you, Miss," he whispered tremulously.

Yeah, she definitely should've kept her mouth shut.

"Uh huh, yeah, sure... Hey, you know, you never told me what you were so jazzed about before, back with that one patient of yours. The sick one."

Murph blinked. It took him a moment to reorient himself, to realize that she was trying to change the subject, and even this brief hesitation pissed her off.

"Oh. Well- well, it was simply the way the influenza virus interacted with...whatever this other virus is."

"The death virus."

"Yes, although I think it's more accurate to call it a resurrection virus. Death has always been around, and it isn't the _virus_ that kills you so much as it is the fever from a bite."

Alpha stared at him blankly. "The fever is the virus."

"No, no, it's just a symptom. It induces a fever that our bodies are not equipped to handle. In other words, it soars to fatal temperatures and there is nothing in this world that can bring it down. But that's only if you're bitten. Otherwise, the virus lies dormant _until_ death. Death...triggers it somehow."

"Okay..."

A part of her regretted ever asking the question, but the act of deciphering his medical mumbo-jumbo helped keep her mind occupied and besides, it was better than swapping horrific stories from their past.

"Perhaps it's some sort of...fermentation process," he continued, his eyes gleaming the way they always did when he was knee-deep in theories. "Atrophy trips a wire that would have otherwise lain untouched...oh, but then that would mean-"

"Hey," Alpha barked. "I'm still here."

"Oh, yes, yes, sorry. What was I saying?"

"The flu and this...resurrection virus."

"Right! Well, this flu- it behaved in a similar manner to the resurrection virus, but strangely they almost seemed to...cancel each other out. Or perhaps that's the wrong word for it-"

"Wait, wait, wait." Alpha peered at him. "How could you know they were cancelling out?"

Murph flushed a little. "Well, he was bitten, Miss. One of my patients turned and- and I let him-"

"You let him bite the other guy," Alpha said flatly.

"I had to. There were theories that would have remained unexplored if I had not decided to cross a few lines."

"Hey, man, I get it. In my opinion lines only exist to prove who has the balls to cross them. I'm just wondering why you kept this from me."

"You...didn't seem interested," he said, frowning. "I know you don't believe in a cure."

"It's not that exactly. I just don't believe that there's a going back. Two completely different concepts. Okay, so: they don't cancel each other out, but they...?"

"They... _feed_ off of each other. I told you the flu virus mutated, that's how it stayed in existence, and for some reason, the resurrection virus... _compromised_ with this new flu. It coexisted in harmony with it. Or at least it appeared to from what little I could glean, but I have reason to believe...yes, yes, I _do_ believe that this is the gateway to the cure. Something about the interrelation of the two..."

But Alpha had stopped listening. She was remembering...remembering back what seemed like a lifetime ago...

When the prison had fallen, when she had witnessed Mason and her people scattered by that man with the eye patch, when she had watched Mason find her Chemist, the man called Abraham, Rosita, and...

Glenn.

It was Glenn that Mason had talked to one night, about...about a sickness. A flu that had ravaged their people right before the prison fell.

"Sasha was up and walking around the last time I saw her," Mason had said. "But no one else... We were the only three to recover."

"Are you saying that people who have had this flu..." Alpha said slowly. "Are you saying they're...what, immune? Cured?"

"Oh, goodness, no! An actual cure will require tweaking, but-"

He cut off, looking abruptly uncomfortable, as though he wasn't sure he should continue. Alpha arched an eyebrow.

"But...?"

"Well, Miss, I- I never told you, because, well, I _didn't_ think you were interested. In any case, you seemed more bent on your own mission than mine, which is perfectly acceptable."

Alpha glared flatly at him and he rubbed a hand uneasily over his arm.

"I waited for as long as I could, you see. But you were in the hospital, and I couldn't- I couldn't just leave you by yourself-"

"Fucking christ, just spit it out."

"That man. Who was sick with the flu, and then bitten." Murph swallowed. "I waited for hours. I monitored his corpse. He didn't turn. He just died."

"...I'm sorry, what?"

 **Mason**

Without the glare of city lights, the view from the roof was exquisite. The stars above were a city all their own, winking and opaline. The moon lustered the ever-churning swells of the ocean off in the distance.

"You know, I've never been to the ocean," Mason confessed. "I'm excited to see it."

Dray peered at her. "Was that a pun?"

She laughed. "I didn't mean it to be."

After a few hours sitting in the ruined hall, waiting for Heath to wake up, they had decided to busy themselves searching for anything they could use to help the others out of their room when the time came.

They hadn't found any cord they could use, but they'd tied sheets and old clothes into a rope long enough to stretch across the gap from the room to the stable end of the hall. Originally they'd thought to simply lower themselves to the story where the walkers had landed, but in the end decided against it. Just in case _that_ floor decided to buckle as well.

Once that was done, Mason and Dray had had nothing to do but wait, and so decided to explore. None of the others had been terribly pleased by this, least of all Eugene and Rick, who told them at least a dozen times to be careful. Mason and Dray had promised not to open any suspicious doors, and that they would check in in a couple of hours.

"And if you need us," Mason had instructed, "fire your guns. We'll come running."

While they'd made their way from level to level, gathering what little provisions they could without venturing into any rooms, Dray had explained briefly how Charlie had suspected her sister would be here.

"Her dad divorced her mom not long after Charlie was born," he said. "He was a real asshole, so it wasn't really a loss, but he left them with hardly any money and moved into these swanky apartments. Sent them Christmas cards but not much else. Apparently Naomi came up here once to talk some sense into him. Ended up knocking him on his ass and nearly getting sued. But there are no classes in the apocalypse."

Mason had been unwilling to confess why the story of their absentee father had bothered her so much.

"You probably wouldn't have liked the beaches here before," Dray said now. "Lots of people."

"Right. Now all we have to contend with are the dead. Way more peaceful." Mason smiled a moment longer before glancing at him. "Why did you bring me up here?"

"To keep us both distracted. I know that look you get when you worry. Your eyes get squinty, like you have a migraine."

She scowled. "You're worried, too."

"That's why I said to keep us _both_ distracted." Dray stared off toward the west. He didn't look as though he needed distracting. His face was as calm and ever-weathering as it always was, a steady rock in the chaos. "Coming up to places like this always made me feel less anxious. Charlie says I should've been a bird."

His mouth quirked in a strange way then, and Mason realized then that the depth of his worry ran deeper than he let on.

So, to distract him, to distract herself, she said, "Did she mean the 'frequenting the roofs of skyscrapers' kind of bird, or the 'shitting on windshields' kind of bird?"

Dray grinned. "Either, depending on her mood."

"Did she ever join you on these rooftops?" A prying question.

"Her and the other Misfits, yes." He gave her a wry, sidelong glance. "Subtle, Mason."

She shrugged. "I just see the way you look at her. And I see the way her eyes get when she's around you. Less like stone, you know, less likely to casually murder someone."

"You know, Mason, you're not the first person to bug me about this."

"Am I bugging you? I'm sorry, I guess it just goes against everything my busybody ass stands for to sit back and watch you two act like everything's normal when it's obvious how you feel."

Dray didn't rise to the challenge in her voice. His expression remained tamed, calm, as he said, "You're at this really hilarious level of hypocrisy, I wish you could hear yourself. I know the story about you and Eugene. You played the same 'just friends' game as us."

"And what does that tell you? I'm just trying to pass on my wisdom. It's my duty as de facto Queen of Denial."

"I appreciate that, Cleopatra, but I'm not denying anything. Charlie does things differently. She _needs_ things differently. You know, this whole thing, coming to California... She knew she probably wasn't going to find Naomi, or at least, if she did..."

He trailed off and they both flinched, remembering Naomi's death-swollen silhouette, lurching its way toward Charlie.

"But she knew she would be strong enough for whatever she found," Dray continued. "Naomi made her choices, and Charlie may have wished she'd made different ones, but all she needed was to say that she _tried._ In every way she could, she tried. She'll heal from this. But it wasn't the whole reason we came here."

"So what was it then?"

He glanced at her. "We're dreamers. We didn't think we'd make it this far. Maybe we weren't supposed to. But even before the world went to hell, we always dreamed of home, a place that made us feel alive. And I think...what happened to us in the mountain, being trapped there since the outbreak, and the Wolves, and the sickness... We forgot. We forgot how to feel the way we used to feel, how to breathe without thinking it would be our last. We wanted to come here to remind ourselves. Relearn how to dream. And I don't know, maybe it's selfish to want something more than survival these days. But if it is, I think we've earned that right."

"You have," Mason said. "I don't think it's selfish anyway."

Dray smiled a little. "Charlie needed us to keep dreaming more than anything else. She grew up in a world that pressed her into stone, but we fought for her to keep dreaming, and in return she fought for us. And now she and I and the rest of us, we're fighting for you, too. Your family. They're dreamers just like us. If they weren't, they wouldn't be here."

"Yeah, I'm really lucky to know these losers," Mason said, but her smile faltered after a moment. "My friend Abraham almost killed Eugene once."

"After the Lie," Dray said, nodding. Eugene and the others had told them the story before.

"Yeah. I spent a lifetime sitting next to him, just hoping he would wake up..."

And she hadn't let herself think too much about it until now, had tried so hard to keep her mind on other things, but-

Not being in that room with her family. Not knowing what was going on. It was _killing_ her. They hadn't wanted to risk climbing across the gap in case they somehow ended up trapped, too, but now she was starting to think maybe they should anyway. If anything happened, they still had Gabriel and Carl and Enid waiting in the wings-

"Nope," Dray said. Calmly. Matter-of-factly. Mason blinked at him and he shook his head. "You're not going to let yourself panic. Neither of us is. Everyone's going to be fine, okay?"

"We could climb across-"

"We already talked about that. That's our last resort, remember? Only if we really need to, only if they need us. But Heath has Denise and Renee looking after him. They all have each other. Right now our job is to wait."

"Okay, well, it's a bullshit job," Mason snapped.

"Yep, it is."

Dray gave her a serene smile and Mason wondered how easily it came to him, because it wasn't the mindless kind. It was the hard-won calm after a storm, the wisdom of someone who had crawled out of darkness and chosen recovery. Not just survival, but reawakening.

She wanted that, too.

She took a moment to breathe the way he'd taught her when they meditated. He patted her shoulder approvingly.

"When everything's sorted out," he said, "we'll bring the rest of the Misfits up here. Your family, too, if they want. Before the outbreak, we used to sneak onto rooftops and dance and get high. A couple times we were almost arrested, but something tells me that won't be an issue anymore. The city's ours now."

Mason glanced out toward the moon-soft ocean, the distant murmur of waves, quiet like the voices in her mind.

"Okay," she said. "But you have to ask Charlie to dance. And I have to give you a thumbs-up from the sidelines like 'that absolute hero, he actually did it' kind of thing, you know, like in cheesy 80's movies? _And_ I have to be the ring bearer if there's a wedding."

Dray laughed. "That's a long list of demands."

"I just really love love. And 80's movies."

~m~

When they returned to the twenty-third floor, it was to find that Heath had finally awoken. He was dizzy and in a good deal of pain, but it didn't appear that he'd sustained any serious damage. So Mason and Dray tied a makeshift anchor to one end of their cloth rope and tossed the weighted end across the gap. Eugene caught it and tied it off to something in their room. Mason tied their own end to the stairwell door; it was heavy and opened in the opposite direction of the hole, the most reliable mooring they could have hoped for.

One by one, the others crawled across the rope. Mason and Dray waited at the fringe of the chasm to help haul them over its sharp outline and broken girders. When Heath crossed, he was flanked on either side by Tanner and Morgan. Dave followed close behind, his eyes wholly on Heath, and once they were all on sturdy footing, Dave looped an arm around Heath and helped him into a sitting position.

When Charlie joined them, she went to Dray first. She didn't say anything, but she grabbed his face in her hands and looked him over with eyes that were near-wild with concern. Dray just watched her, his eyes soothing and steady and sad, and slowly the rigidity in her stance eased. Her expression remained raw with grief, but, assured that he was unharmed, her splintered edges softened a bit.

Rick and Eugene were the last to cross, and Mason's heart remained in her throat until they were both safely over the fall. Eugene was on solid footing for a total of two seconds before he swept Mason into his arms, kissing her like crazy, peppering her face with them like he was trying to ascertain that she was really there with his lips.

"Quit it!" she giggled. "You're getting me all slobbery!"

He pulled back, frowning. "I am not."

"Yuh huh."

He narrowed his eyes before turning her face to the side and licking a long, deliberate line across her cheek.

She squealed. " _Eu_ _gene_!"

He smiled, but his eyes became a little shadowed as he spoke. "We've decided to return to Charlie's old neighborhood," he said, brushing a hand through Mason's hair. "Until we find a residency appropriate enough to call home."

Mason furrowed her brows, looking at Charlie. "Are you sure?"

Charlie glanced in her direction, though her expression remained withdrawn. "It's the safest place nearby," she said. "No one else would want to stay there."

Her voice was hard like granite, no room for argument. Mason exchanged a quick look with Dray before nodding.

"Alright. How you feeling, Heath?"

"I'm okay," he said, though he winced when he spoke. "I can keep going."

Dave frowned. "Don't push it if you don't think you can."

"We can let you rest up some more if you need to," Mason agreed gently.

"Guys, seriously, I'm fine," Heath said and grinned at the doubt on Dave's face. "Looks like you're not the only dangerously clumsy one here."

"Oh, of course not, there's also Mason."

The two of them laughed. Mason scowled.

"Hey, fuck you both."

Slowly they all made their way downstairs again. Rick radioed Gabriel on the walkie to let them know they were coming down, and the cars were waiting outside by the time they made it to the bottom.

They didn't stay in the house Charlie and Naomi had stayed in. They camped out a few houses down, hiding the cars under tarps and sheets so their glow wouldn't give them away.

The others fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the day's trials. But though Mason shared their weariness, she tossed and turned, growing increasingly restless with each passing minute. Her mind was full of images she couldn't bury, concerns that pounded against the walls of that cage in her chest.

Finally she sat up, biting back an irritated sigh.

After a moment, Eugene sat up, too, and they shared a long look before rising silently to their feet. They grabbed their weapons and rucksacks, moving about in hush to keep from waking the others.

They were just stepping out the front door when someone grabbed Mason's arm.

"Where the hell are you two goin'?" Daryl demanded, though he kept his voice low.

"House hunting," Eugene replied.

"We couldn't sleep, so we figured we may as well put our insomnia to good use," Mason explained.

Daryl rolled his eyes but said, "Just let me grab my crossbow."

"No, Daryl, stay," Mason said. When he raised an incredulous eyebrow, she continued, "If the others wake up before we make it back, we'll need someone to keep them from freaking out."

He was quiet a moment before letting out a soft, exasperated snort. "Fine. But hold up."

They waited a moment while he disappeared and reappeared a moment later, holding out a walkie talkie.

"I'll have the other one on me if ya'll run into trouble," he said, then glared at both of them. " _Don't_ run into trouble."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Dixon," Eugene replied.

Mason squeezed Daryl's hand briefly. "We'll try not to be long."

They didn't take any of the lambent cars, choosing instead to go on foot. They walked in companionable silence, speaking only when necessary in case they weren't the only ones out on a midnight stroll. Eugene led the way, consulting his map of L.A., avoiding the places most densely populated by the dead. They passed through several military-cordoned areas, neighborhoods where refugees had been taken and fenced in and left to die.

Everything was ravaged. Some of the buildings looked as though they'd suffered through several small earthquakes. Though they didn't take the time to properly search, Mason and Eugene kept their eyes out for any usable supplies. Mostly all they saw were ruins and walkers.

"There's not much up ahead," Eugene said after a while. They'd been walking north the whole way, flanking the beach, but the cluster of suburbs was thinning, giving way to a greener area. "There are a couple of orchards a few miles to the east, but it's getting late. Or rather early. We should probably be heading back."

Mason frowned. She was dead on her feet and all she wanted to do was sleep, but something in her stomach, her chest, urged her on. She nodded to the left, where cliffs gave way to the ocean. There was a gravel road snaking down a man-made incline, but she couldn't see where it led from where she stood.

"What about over there?" she said.

"New development, I think. It's a fair guess this area was under construction when the infection hit."

And yet, even as he spoke, even though he sounded doubtful there was anything to see, he still took an unconscious step toward that little gravel road.

He raised an eyebrow at Mason, leaving the decision up to her. The sun would be coming up soon, but that _tugging_ in her stomach, not unlike the impulse she'd had to explore the Oasis...

She shrugged. "We can just see where that leads. If there's nothing there, we'll head back."

Side by side, they turned to follow the winding side road, a gentle slope in direct contrast to the cliff face.

Side by side, they stepped onto the sand.

Side by side, they stopped.

The beach stretched for about a mile to the north, flanked by cliffs on one side and ocean on the other. It had indeed once been a construction site. There was a cluster of heavy equipment parked on gravel beds close to the rock face. And standing a few yards distant, solitary in the sand, a house.

But it was none of this that swept the breath from Mason's lungs, none of this that had her gripping Eugene's hand so hard it must have hurt.

This-

This was it.

This was the beach.

She'd been here before, in her sleep.

Her knees shook, her thoughts blurring a bit. She wondered if she was about to pass out.

"Eugene," she whispered shakily, half-desperate, leaning against him. "Eugene."

"It's not possible."

It took her a moment.

But then she blinked, and looked up at him, and realized that he was frozen in shock, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before them.

And she remembered all of a sudden. The morning after they'd made love for the first time, that morning in Alexandria, he had told her...told her...

"You dreamed about this place, too," she breathed.

 _"I had a dream... That we were on a beach, watching the stars come out..."_

He shook his head. "It's not possible," he rasped again. "It's- we- haven't ever been here."

Mason shook her head, too, but something was growing in her chest. She didn't recognize it at first, distracted by the sudden murmur of voices in the back of her head. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but the sound of them trickled down her spine, filled her up like water, until she was swollen with them, until she felt glowing and warm and-

Peace. _That_ was the feeling in her chest, so unexpected she'd almost forgotten...

Lightly, she tugged on Eugene's hand. "C'mon," she said, and the softness of her voice, the awe and light there, broke Eugene from his shock. He looked at her, eyes still wide. Tears filled her own as she smiled at him. With disbelief. With hope.

So, side by side, they made their way to the house.

They were sensible about everything. Alert, weapons ready. But the beach was still. Mason's heart pounded as they stepped up to the front door of the house. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to open it.

Stepping inside...

It felt like coming home.

The house itself was huge and empty. Lots of rooms, some of which were still unfinished, still strewn with drops cloths and plastic sheeting and power tools, as though whoever had been working on it had been forced to flee in the middle of it.

A blank canvas.

"This is it," she finally said out loud, and the voices murmured something that felt like agreement.

Eugene looked at her, and she loved the look on his face. Like he was finally witnessing something the rest of the world had told him couldn't exist.

"Yes," he breathed. "I would say that's a correct assessment."

Brimming with joy, with reverence, she seized his face and kissed him, and it was there in the taste of him, the feel of his hands on her body, the sound of his quiet groan. The home they'd been searching for. The hope they'd been chasing.

She was so happy, so overwhelmed with it, that she might have jumped him right then, might have let him make love to her right there against the wall. But the walkie crackled to life, startling them both apart, and Daryl had only a second to warn them- "Uh, ya'll might want to think about coming back"- before Rick's snarl cut him off.

" _Where the hell are you_?"

Both Mason and Eugene had the good sense to look nervous before Mason took the walkie.

"It's okay," she said. "We're okay. We're just...exploring-"

"Get back here _. Now._ Or I will come and get you myself."

Mason rubbed her arm uneasily, feeling acutely like a child scolded by her parents. "Okay, yeah, we were just about to head back anyway. Actually..."

She glanced at Eugene, and his smile made her feel like her heart might burst out of her chest.

"Actually, we have something to show ya'll."

~m~

Rick chewed them both a new one when they returned to the group, absolutely livid that they would have been stupid enough to sneak off to explore a strange city in the middle of the night. They took their lumps meekly, apologizing for making him worry, and only once his anger was spent did he ask what them what they meant when they'd said they had something to show them.

They'd barely been able to keep from spoiling the surprise. The others grumbled as they loaded into the cars, complaining about the early hour. Dawn light illuminated the caravan as they maneuvered the path Mason and Eugene had memorized.

They pulled to a stop right at the beginning of the little gravel path. Everyone climbed out, looking around in confusion.

"What exactly are we here to see?" Jesus inquired.

Mason gave him a smug little smile and pointed down the path. "Why don't ya'll take a look for yourselves?"

They did as she instructed, huddling on the slope of the driveway as the blush of morning illuminated the beach.

Their eyes went wide when the saw the house, its size, its untouched simplicity. Big enough for all of them. Removed from the city and the suburbs. Sheltered by the cliffs and the sea.

"We cleared it," Eugene said. "No one was there. We don't think anyone's been there since the beginning."

Rick looked at them, his earlier irritation warring with gratitude.

But Carl shared an eager look with Enid before turning to his dad. "Can we go see?"

The others murmured their agreement, and Mason saw it beginning to awaken on their faces. They might not have dreamt of this place as impossibly, as surely, as she and Eugene had, but she knew they felt it, too. The hope.

"Yes," Rick said, and finally he smiled. "We can all go see."

So they did, Rick and Daryl leading the way, Carl, Enid, Dave and Ashlee bounding right at their heels like they could barely contain their excitement.

Mason and Eugene paused for a moment on the slope, just watching them. Her hand in his, his fingers sure and tight around hers, their heartbeats synchronized like a warm, red harmony.

 _Alive_ , she thought. She felt alive. Just like Dray had talked about earlier.

And now her dreamers were all before her, exploring a house that felt like home, on a beach she could not explain how she knew, and she was alive, they were alive, she was glowing and at peace.

Tenderly, Eugene squeezed her hand. "C'mon," he said. "This is it."

So they followed their family home.

 **Alpha**

The day dawned ugly and forceful, prying at her aching skull like shining, pastel claws. She lay where she was for a few moments, splayed out on the floor like a corpse, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't tell what had woken her at first, but even exhausted, even praying for death, she felt her instincts prickling like spiders along her skin.

Then she heard it, the groaning snarl of a cold body. Of _many_ cold bodies, and the crunch of glass under feet.

She sat up, in time to see the undead tumble over the jagged edges of the window the force of them had broken. With a curse, she scrambled to her feet, reaching out to shove Murph awake.

They hadn't reinforced the windows last night, partly because they lacked enough material to do so but also because there seemed to be a curious lack of cold bodies in this section of the city.

Or so they'd thought, apparently.

"Get the fuck _up_!" Alpha snapped, yanking Murph off the floor while he babbled in alarm. She left him to gather his wits, seizing the knife off her belt and taking down the closest cold bodies. But there were too many for them to fight in such tight quarters, with only their knives as weapons.

Teeth clenched in a snarl, Alpha grabbed Murph's arm and edged toward the door. But through the tinted glass, she spotted more of the undead, feasting on something right outside.

Blocking their only escape.

Alpha tensed. Whichever way they went, they would have to fight their way through. She let go of Murph to arm her free hand with a shard of glass, but before she could launch herself into the drove, a new figure flashed between them.

He was covered in blood, and Alpha might have thought he was a cold body himself if not for his speed and the bit of metal piping he wielded.

"Stay close to me," he ordered them and began swinging, clearing a path through the undead. His veil of blood slowed them, confused them enough that they didn't attempt to fight him. Realizing that neither Alpha or Murph had moved, the man shouted again. "Come on!"

Alpha stifled the burn of resentment and followed him. He cut such an effective path through the cold bodies that Alpha only had to use her knife a few times. And then they were out in the open, racing across the street, through an alley and onto a completely new block.

They paused, panting, and for a moment Alpha was overcome by a wave of fury. She hadn't needed him to rescue them. She would have fought and clawed her way out of that horde on her own. But the way the man had run, not with aimless panic but the assurance of someone who knew his surroundings well...

"Thank you," she said, putting just the right amount of fear and relief in her voice, just the barest hint of a tremble. Murph eyed her but said nothing.

"The dead have to hunt animals here because there aren't any people left," the man said, staring back in the direction they'd come with a complicated expression. He was young, Alpha realized. Short and bit gaunt, but sharp-eyed. "They caught a deer outside your building, that's why they found you. Are you guys new to L.A.?"

"We are," Alpha said.

"If you're wanting to stay alive, you probably shouldn't stay," he said and turned to leave.

It took everything not to bristle at the implication that she couldn't survive on her own. "Wait!" she said. "Maybe you could help us."

The man gave her a charming little half-smile. "I think I just did. Gave you some sound advice, too. Usually you gotta pay extra for that."

"We're looking for someone," she persisted. "A group, actually."

"A group?" He shook his head. "There are no groups here, not anymore."

"Well, they just came here. Recently, maybe a few days ago."

"I'm sorry, I don't know anything about that."

"But you know this area well, don't you?" Alpha sweetened her tone, glancing at him from under her eyelashes. "I mean, you seem like you really have your shit together."

He looked at her, opening his mouth like he was going to dismiss her, but she held his gaze. He swallowed.

"Look, I can't make any promises," he finally said. "But I can try to help you. Draw you a map, at least."

"Thank you," Alpha purred.

The man nodded, running a hand through his scraggly, blood-stained hair. "We should probably get off this street. It'll be safer back where I'm staying."

Exchanging a quick, sharp glance with Murph, Alpha followed the man down the ruined, trash-strewn sidewalk.

"So what can I call you guys?" the man asked after a moment. He moved alertly but confidently. His eyes cataloged every corner and side street, every shadow and flicker.

"My friend here is Murph," Alpha said.

"And what about you?"

"Well, I've had a couple of names but I hated them all. My last group called me Alpha."

The man slowed to a stop, turning to appraise her through narrowed eyes, as though seeing her for the first time. Alpha just smiled, watching him unblinkingly.

"What about _you_?" she said.

The man was silent for a moment, clearly wary, but in the end he answered.

"Nick. Come on, we're just a few blocks away."

NOTE: Yep, ya'll, it's Nick from FTWD. I realize that I'm altering quite a large chunk of the FTWD narrative including him here, because I do know what happens to him in the show. But! I really like Nick, and I was just so tempted to see how his character played with Alpha's. Anyway, how he ended up alone and roaming the streets of L.A. will be explained in the next chapter. Until then, much, much love.


	22. LA Devotee

Hello, guys! Glad to say that I was able to get this one out on in a timely manner, probably because I was pretty excited about it. The chapter song is "LA Devotee" by Panic! at the Disco, which is just...perfection. Love it. It totally fits the vibe of this chapter, as well as the fact that, you know, they're in L.A. lol. As always, thanks for your reviews and support, ya'll are so awesome! Hope you guys enjoy this one, please let me know what you think!

22\. LA Devotee

 **Eugene**

He rapped quickly and nervously on the bedroom door. "Are you ready yet?"

"Hold your damn horses!" Mason shouted back, and then began muttering, "Jesus fucking christ, it's not like we don't have all goddamn day...fucking rushing me around... Ask me one more time if I'm ready, you impatient fucking bastard..."

Despite the anxiety twisting his gut, his lips twitched in amusement. He headed back for the living room, where the others were buzzing about, preparing for their own days.

One week after finding the beach house and it was already starting to look like a home. They'd scavenged furniture and other domestic necessities, and though some of the bedrooms remained at their bare minimum- air mattresses and piles of blankets as opposed to real beds- the whole place was restful. _Familiar,_ as though they'd been living there for a while.

Today was another scavenging day, though Eugene had advised them all to keep their eyes open for a few less conventional trappings- solar panels, inverters and desalination units at the top of that list. The Misfits had thought they'd probably need to search the richer neighborhoods to check those off, which was where they were headed. Rick and Daryl were also taking out small groups, leaving Michonne in charge of those waiting behind at the house.

Eugene and Mason were the only group of two. It had taken a bit of arguing, but Eugene had finally convinced Rick that they would be okay, especially once he confessed his ulterior motive for the mission.

He sat now on the couch they'd brought in two days ago- only minimal blood stains, they couldn't pass it up- and wrung his hands while he waited for Mason.

After a moment, Rick sat next to him, raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Eugene nodded, feeling a bit manic. "Uh huh. Yep. Thoroughly and wholeheartedly coolioz. I most certainly do not feel as though I'm about to puke."

Rick sniffed, clearly fighting not to laugh. "Yeah, well, I'd definitely advise you _not_ to do that. Mason loves you, but I'm pretty sure she'd lay you out if you puked on her."

"Wait, why are we puking on Mason?" Tanner asked.

" _We_ are not puking on Mason, I am," Eugene growled, and then blinked, realizing what he'd said. Furiously he shook his head. "I mean, I'm not- I mean- _Don't you have someone else to irritate_?"

Tanner's eyes widened. "Whoa, there, cool breeze, it was an innocent question," he said and glanced at Rick for an explanation.

"Eugene, you're sweating buckets," Rosita said, frowning at him. Some of the others in the room were looking at him now, too, and he felt his face heat up. "What the hell is with you?"

Eugene opened and closed his mouth, trying and failing to come up with a lie for the first time in his life. He looked at Rick, desperate for assistance, but Rick just looked back at him with an expression that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

"It...it's classified," Eugene finally croaked.

Suspicion glinted in Rosita's eyes. Rick just snorted. But it was Carol, with her sharp-eyed wisdom, that shook her head and said, "I have a feeling...it's only a secret from Mason, right? So why not show the rest of us?"

The others glanced between them in confusion but Carol held Eugene's gaze, smirking slightly. After a moment, he sighed and threw Rick a glare.

"I told you in confidence."

Rick held up his hands. "Hey, I didn't say anything about it, she just sees all."

Growling under his breath, Eugene reached into his rucksack, into the little pocket he'd sewn, starkly aware that everyone had gathered around to watch.

He paused, however, to glance around with a thunderous expression.

"Just keep in mind, you nosy fuckers, that I have quite a few murders under my belt at this point and am no longer too timid to put that experience to good use."

Then he held out his hand and showed them.

 **Mason**

She was tying her shoes when she heard the explosion of cheers and delighted squeals. The sound was so bright and unexpected that she smiled reflexively, blinking in confusion.

"The fuck...?"

Quickly she finished getting ready, grabbing her rucksack and venturing out of the room where she and Eugene had slept the night before. The whole group had agreed to a system of sharing the six bedrooms, rotating each night who got their own space and who slept in the living room.

It was in the living room where everyone was gathered- around Eugene, she realized after a moment. They were peering at him, at something he was holding, but she couldn't see what it was from where she was standing.

"Mason," Ashlee said- loudly, as though warning the others.

Everyone jumped, Eugene in particular, who shoved the mysterious something back into his rucksack.

"Hello, love, are you ready?" he said, in a higher voice than usual.

"Yeah..." She narrowed her eyes. "What, uh...whatcha got there?"

"That's classified," he replied, and shared a nervous laugh with Rosita and Tara.

Mason opened her mouth to press him further, but before she could Tanner bounded toward her.

"Hey, Mason, before you go, I need your help with something," he said.

"With what?"

"With my...outfit," he finished lamely. Eugene hung his head with an exasperated sigh.

Mason made a big show of looking Tanner over. "Yeah? You forget how buttons work again, big fella?"

"Sure did, princess," Tanner replied before picking her up and throwing her over one shoulder.

" _Hey_!"

She struggled to free herself, but he held her tight as he carried her past the others and outside.

"Get your freckly hands off me!" she said, squirming indignantly before he finally set her down. He met her glare with an insolent look. "What the hell?"

"Okay, look, I don't really need help with my outfit. I mean. C'mon," he said, waving a hand at himself. "I don't have to be wearing _anything_ to look fly as hell."

"Yeah, you really had me going there, you absolute _lord_ of cleverness. My silly little girl brain is no match for your cunning-"

She broke off with a yelp when he pinched her.

"Would you shut your smart mouth for five seconds?" he growled. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Does it have anything to do with why ya'll were swarming my precious cinnamon roll?" Mason demanded.

Tanner waved a dismissive hand. "Eh, he was just telling an embarrassing story. Something about puking on someone, I don't even know. Listen, I didn't want to say anything with Renee in earshot, but... I was wondering if you had any advice on, you know, how to talk to her."

Mason frowned. "Tan, you _know_ how to talk to her. She's one of your best friends."

"Yeah, but I think she and Rosita have been fighting lately." He ran a hand across the back of his neck. "Haven't you noticed?"

Immediately, Mason forgot about everything else. "Really?"

"Yeah," Tanner said. "I wanted to talk to her about it, but I couldn't think of a way to do it. And you're...you know, good at that kind of stuff so I was just wondering if you had any advice."

"Oh, well...I don't know," Mason replied. "She might not want to talk at all, but just let her know you're there for her if she needs to. Whatever you do, though, _don't_ treat her like a pity case, either. If you hurt her pride, she'll just try that much harder to hide that she's having a hard time. And she'll probably punch you."

Tanner nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right. Thanks, Mama Death."

 **Eugene**

When Mason and Tanner returned, Mason's face was pinched in a frown. Eugene's pulse faltered for a moment, wondering what Tanner could have said to make her look like that. While everyone else dispersed to make last minute preparations, Eugene sidled up to Tanner.

Tanner grinned loftily. "How goes it, Eep?"

Eugene's answering expression promised violence. " _Spill_."

" _Relax_ , bro, I didn't say anything. I gave our Worryin' Warrior something else to think about."

"What?"

"Renny and Rosie. Made up some lie about how they're fighting, blah, blah, blah... Honestly I can't believe Mason bought it. She's always the first to sense when something's amiss with one of us. But I figured if anything was gonna distract her, it'd be worrying about her family."

Impressed by his guile, Eugene shook his head. "Shameless, but effective."

"Yeah, you're welcome."

Eugene smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Tan."

To his surprise, Tanner swept him into a brief bear hug, patting his back hard enough to knock the wind from him.

"Hey, good luck, man," he said, but when he let him go his grin had turned evil. "I hope you don't puke."

"...Thanks."

 **Mason**

She and Eugene headed south, back toward the city. Rick was taking his group east to explore the woods and suburbs and Daryl was taking his group north, past the church they'd found a few days ago on the cliffs at the end of their beach. The Misfits were making an expedition to the upscale neighborhoods, where they thought it most likely to find the things on Eugene's checklist.

Mason couldn't help thinking of them as she drove, wondering how Renee was doing, wondering if she should have tried to talk to Rosita before they'd left. She should've asked Tanner what he'd meant by fighting. How serious was it? It must be pretty bad if Tanner had noticed.

Eugene glanced at her several times before holding something out to her. It took her a moment to realize that it was a cord for her iPod, plugged into a cassette adapter.

"When did you find this?" she asked.

"Yesterday, out with Daryl."

The little hopeful smile he gave her melted a bit through her anxiety, and she smiled, too, handing him her iPod.

"Anything in particular?" he asked.

"Just shuffle the deck."

Eugene perked up at the first song that began to play.

"'Don't Fear the Reaper'," he laughed. "It's a song about you."

Mason grinned wider, showing her teeth, and began to sing, windows rolled down to let the salt-kissed breeze tangle her hair. After a moment, Eugene joined in, too, cheerfully out of tune, his hand warm and comforting in hers.

She parked just outside of the grid the Misfits had drawn for them, mapping out where they'd likely have the most luck checking off their list. The sky was blue and mottled with bubbly clouds, the air heavy with humidity. Mason drew X's through the buildings they cleared, marking which ones they could return to for more supplies. The work was tedious but made more pleasant by Eugene's presence. Although...

"You okay?" she asked when they stopped for a quick lunch, perched on a wrecked car in an alleyway. In the streets on either side of them, walkers roamed, but Mason wasn't terribly concerned. There was something almost comfortable about their presence, a bit like background ambiance.

Eugene paused in his mechanic chewing, blinking as though she'd startled him. "Yes, ma'am. Fine."

"You don't seem fine. You're jumpier than usual. I'm getting flashbacks of our Georgia days before you knew how to fire a gun."

He snorted and bumped his shoulder against hers. "Eat your lunch, Miss Reynolds."

She might have pursued it further, but the next block they searched required a good deal of stealth, overrun as it was with the dead. It was strange, she noticed, how some areas were populated and others desolate, though she chalked it up to the dead's tendency to herd up.

It was in the middle of clearing one of the more populated streets when Eugene suddenly stopped, pulling Mason back to shelter behind a bus. His brow was furrowed in that telltale, thoughtful way of his.

"Perhaps we should refrain from killing them all," he said.

"Uh, what?"

"Well, part of the reason we agreed to find a new home so close to L.A. was because we calculated that people would stay away from it. _Because_ of the walkers. Essentially they serve as our security system, for all intents and purposes."

A slow smile lit Mason's face. "Good thinking, strategist."

So they took to veiling themselves instead- covering themselves in walker guts and traveling like ghosts through the dead. And though it required more quiet attentiveness, it at least distracted Mason from her earlier concern.

 **Alpha**

The problem was that there was a lot of potential in Nick.

He was intelligent and wily and strong, though... There _was_ that pesky sentiment that held him back from his truest potential.

Of course, she supposed, if it weren't for that same sentiment, that compassion, she likely never would have met him in the first place.

And, if she were being honest, the same potential she admired in him could mean a slew of obstacles to overcome in the future. At least, if she decided she was indeed going to use him. It seemed a waste not to anyway.

The story she wove for him was as close to the truth as she could get, which was to say not that truthful at all. The first night he brought her and Murph back to where he lived- an apartment over an old bar- she explained to him who she was looking for and why.

"My girlfriend, Mason, and I were surviving together for a while," she'd said. "Months and months we were together, scraping by, but...it was good, you know? I was with her, and that was all that mattered."

It had galled her a bit to spew such sappy crap, but Alpha sensed that Nick was the type of person to eat it up. And indeed, as she'd continued her tale, his eyes had glimmered with emotion, with sympathy, and she'd known she was playing her role flawlessly.

"But one night, we were attacked by a group. They wanted our shit, they wanted the clothes off our backs. They wanted _us_ , in the service of them. They called themselves Alexandria, made it out to seem like they were _saving_ us, even though they held the guns to our heads. We tried to fight, but there were just too many of them. I..."

She'd paused to shake her head, as though she were too overwhelmed to continue. She'd felt Murph's eyes on her, but she didn't dare look at him, didn't dare look anywhere but at Nick, whose face was pinched with understanding.

"I managed to break free, but they took Mason. They _took_ her from me. And ever since...ever since I've been tracking them, trying to figure out a way to free her. I've done so many...so many awful things...just to get to her. There are so many of them, and they have guns, and I _know_ it's a long shot, but... I will do anything, _anything_ , to get her back."

A few well-timed tears had slipped down her cheeks, but she'd kept her gaze steady as she appraised him.

"That's why I need your help," she'd said. "It's not my place to ask you, but I'm doing it anyway. She is _mine_. Those bastards have no right to her."

Nick had stared at her for a long time, and then said, "You sure she's alive?"

"I'm sure until I see her corpse."

Finally he'd nodded. "I'll help you. As much as I can, I mean...L.A.'s a big city. You're not sure where exactly they've gone?"

"No."

An irritating roadblock. The little path drawn on the stolen map had not indicated their precise location, just that it would be somewhere in the City of Angels.

Nick had sighed. "Well, you're in for a tedious time, I'll just tell ya. But." And here he had smiled that likable smile of his. "I'm your guide."

They'd started the very next day, moving all the way south to the edge of the city. He'd drawn out grids- thrown himself into his work, actually. Alpha got a strange sense about him- that he was flaky, and yet somehow never half-assed anything. She liked that. Contradictions were fun.

But the work _was_ tedious. He hadn't been exaggerating. And with each day they searched and found nothing, searched and found nothing, Alpha felt the blood boil hotter and hotter in her veins. She tried to conceal this around Nick, but she couldn't be certain it didn't show in her eyes.

And now this afternoon was shaping up to be much of the same, combing empty houses and gas stations and strip clubs and fast food restaurants and all manner of buildings in between. Finding nothing, no evidence that anyone was there or had been there in quite a while.

They were paused in a rambling chateau of a house, Alpha and Murph upstairs and Nick holed up somewhere else. He often disappeared- to keep watch or scout the dead, he claimed, although there was something about this that she did not quite believe. But he hadn't given her a concrete reason to distrust him, or at least to think that he was plotting against her, so she didn't much care what he was doing.

"I swear if we don't find _something_ I will scream," Alpha hissed to Murph.

"It's only been a week, Miss," he replied. "We've been tracking them for months."

"Yeah, that's my fucking point." The frustration of being _so close_ and finding nothing...

"Patience is the key, Miss. Patience will win this game-"

" _Fuck. Patience_."

What pissed her off was that she knew he was right. But right now, when she was still so thirsty- for alcohol, any kind of alcohol, god, she'd drink paint thinner if she found any- and the voices, the fucking _voices_ , closing in like ravenous wolves... Right now it was getting pretty damn difficult to stay patient.

"This is ridiculous, I'm finding Nick and we're moving on," she said. "There ain't shit in this place."

She didn't wait for Murph's reply before stalking out of the room.

Downstairs was quiet, no sign of Nick in any of the rooms. Alpha tossed her knife from hand to hand, her fury growing, so that by the time she opened the door leading to the backyard she was debating using it on him.

"Nick," she hissed, surveying the overgrown grass and shrubbery, the sun-blasted wall surrounding it cracked by time or tremors or both. There was no response, but she heard a strange wet noise coming from beyond the wall. Gripping her knife, she edged toward the sound, expecting a cold body.

When she rounded the corner, she was not expecting to see Nick, crouched over headless corpse. There was blood on his fingers, blood on his lips, and he was chewing... _eating_ something...

"What the fuck are you doing?" she said and he jumped.

He swallowed hard, his eyes wide. Pupils dilated. Sweat slicking his skin.

"Hey, Alpha," he said. "I thought you were searching the house-"

"The house is empty, it's pointless staying, and what the _fuck_ are you _doing_?" She stared at the decapitated head, at the way it almost seemed dissected-

"Locus coeruleus," Nick said, holding up his bloody fingers as though in evidence. "A nucleus in the brain that deals with stress and adrenaline."

Alpha blinked. "And...you ate it..."

"To get high. Try, at least." His tone was amiable, as though they were discussing the weather, but there was a darkness in his eyes. "It really needs to be oxidized, but it still gives a little bit of a rush. Or maybe that's just placebo, but either way, it works."

She was silent for another moment, and then she grinned. "You're a junkie."

"You look like I just told you I was a celebrity or something." He fidgeted a bit, rolling the cold body's severed head with the toe of his shoe.

"My dad was a junkie."

Nick peered at her. "So...what? I'm in good company or something?"

"Oh, definitely not. I just meant I'm familiar with it."

More than that, it was something she could _use_. A weakness to exploit.

"So that's what you've been disappearing for this past week?" she continued. "To get your fix?"

"Better than the alternative, right?" He smiled a little, and that darkness was there, too. "Wandering around a city alone, you start hearing things that aren't there. Seeing things. They follow you. And, man, withdrawal just seems to bring them out in _droves_ , right?"

She stiffened, but she kept her voice neutral. "I don't know, does it?"

"Give it up, Alpha." His eyes slid slyly to hers, his smirk humorless. "I'm not an expert at much, but I know withdrawal when I see it. So what was it? Pills?"

She hesitated only briefly. "Booze," she said, her voice considerably colder than before.

Nick motioned around them. "There's plenty to choose from, if you know where to look."

"I'm not looking for that."

"Fair enough. But you're gonna wish you were. Even if we find your girl."

Heat blistered up and down her spine. "And why's that?"

"Because I see them following you around."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "Whoever's haunting you. Look, I know you're not telling me everything. That's fine. We're perfect strangers, you don't have to tell me your life story. But finding your girl isn't going to get rid of those shadows. That's not how it works."

She couldn't pinpoint why, but something about his words bothered her. She shook her head as if to clear them from her brain and snapped, "I don't need a therapy session, thanks."

"No. Just another kiss from the bottle."

Before she could think better of it, Alpha strode toward him and seized him by his shirt. Her knife angled toward his throat, scraping his collarbone.

But Nick just stared her down, that dark smirk lingering on his face.

"C'mon, what shady shit have you done? I know you have a past, anyone who demands to be called Alpha has to have a colorful one."

"I thought we weren't sharing our life stories."

His eyes glinted. "So it's a lot then?"

"I already told you. I've had to do terrible shit to try and get Mason back. I will do anything, don't think I won't."

"I believe you."

Alpha scrutinized him for a moment, examining every inch of his face. Yes, she realized then. Those things she liked about him were not going to make this easy for her.

 _You could kill him right now and be done with it,_ Beta said.

But she didn't want to kill him.

 _Control and chaos,_ she thought. _That's what I want._

She released him. He stumbled back, hopping over the undead's severed head. Her expression remained unmoving but Nick grinned like she'd said something funny.

"Why did you agree to help me?" she demanded.

"Because it's too late to get back the people I lost, and I wish there'd been someone there to guide me when they were still around."

 _Play him,_ Feral whispered. _Play him like a fiddle._

"Who did you lose?" Alpha murmured.

"They're not dead. Not all of them, at least. My sister was still alive last time I saw her." He huffed a laugh. "Alive and very pissed."

"Why was she pissed?"

"Your dad was a junkie, I bet you can figure it out."

Alpha understood in a heartbeat. She offered up a wry smile. "I'm an alcoholic," she said. "I get it, firsthand."

Nick nodded. "You're in that mindset, and...the drugs come first, you know? I was...I was doing alright for a while there, at the beginning. When the world went to shit, it was like waking up. My mom and my sister got me clean when it all first started, but the world was fucked and it felt like a homecoming of sorts. Like I could finally show my family _my_ world, make them understand."

Alpha perked up. Hadn't she felt the same? Hadn't she felt so glad, so savagely _glad_ that the world had changed? Because it was her world. It was a world she could thrive in; she _belonged_ to this world.

"Lots of shit went down in between," Nick continued. "We lost a lot of people but in the end it was always us. No matter who died, no matter how we got separated, my mom and my sister and me, we always found our way back to each other. Mom always thought it was fate, but if that's the case then I must be bigger than fate, because I'm the reason we're not together anymore."

"What did you do?"

For a moment, Nick was silent, his eyes growing distant and dark. He stared pensively at the body at his feet before he said, "I got a lot of people killed. A lot of people. This shit I take now to get high, other people wanted it, too. I started selling it. Kept it proprietary- only me and a few others knew the trick to harvesting and priming it. My mom disapproved, but my sister... She was livid. I tried to tell her that we needed things to trade with other people, but she was convinced it was just a matter of time before shit hit the fan. Probably should've listened. She always had her head on straight."

"You were attacked, weren't you?" Alpha said.

"Disco."

"Couldn't keep up with demand, or what?"

"The dead outnumber us, so not exactly. In order to keep prices high, to get the most for a risk, I had to make it seem like supplies were limited. They didn't know it came from the dead. They figured it was some kind of animal, some intricate process. Everything was all well and good until someone overdosed and his people marched on our doorstep. They claimed we'd poisoned him on purpose. They demanded back their share of what they'd paid but I told them it was my profit. There was no way they could give back the nuclei, so the deal was done. I apologized for their loss but assured them there was nothing malicious going on.

"They attacked a few days later. Killed ten people. Took some of our food, some of our weapons. My people wanted blood. We weren't meant for a war, but that's what I started. That's what _I_ started." He shook his head. "I couldn't handle it. I kept harvesting, kept getting high. I was almost killed one night, cornered by some of the men I'd sold to. My sister saved me, but she was just...done. She told me to get the fuck away, go anywhere, as long as it was far from her and our mom and everyone else she cared about. So I did. Came back to wander my hometown with the dead."

There was sorrow in his face, and pain, but he didn't shed a tear. There wasn't an ounce of self-pity in him.

Yes, it would be a shame to waste him.

So, putting just the right amount of sympathy in the set of her lips, Alpha laid a hand on his arm and said, "You can make up for it."

Nick was quiet, searching her face. But her mask was flawless. She was just someone as broken and flawed as him and he would be none the wiser to the rest of it, so long as she was clever.

Eventually, he nodded. "You're right, this place is empty. Let's move on."

 **Eugene**

"Sun's gonna be going down soon," Mason murmured, glancing at the sky. "Bout time to be heading back."

Something like panic electrified Eugene's veins. "Uh. Y-yes, of course," he said.

Mason narrowed her eyes but said nothing as they turned back to retrace their steps, prowling through the dead as though they were dead, too. And with each step, Eugene struggled to tame his pounding heart.

 _Get. A fucking. Grip,_ he thought. But all he was successfully gripping was his machete. Gripping it so hard, in fact, that his knuckles were bone-white and groaning in protest, and goddamn, was it _healthy_ for his heart to be beating so fast?

At his side, Mason relaxed a bit and it was only then that he realized they'd come to one of the ghost streets. No walkers as far as he could see. Still, this absence of death did not ease his anxiety one single iota.

"You know, as a kid, I always dreamed of something like this," Mason said.

"Something like what?"

"Like...this." She waved a hand at their surroundings. "Empty streets. No people. Free to do whatever the fuck I wanted."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "You dreamed of the apocalypse?"

"Sort of. Really all I wanted was a chance to exist without the weight of other people, you know? Without feeling anxious and depressed and just... I just wanted to exist in my own way. Without the world telling me how I should do it."

Understanding made his heart ache. How many times had he wished for the same thing? For people to just disappear for a while, or for time to freeze, or _something_ , just so he could get a little peace?

"Like that," Mason said, pointing at one of the stores on his left. There were mannequins with suits and dresses in the dusty front window, and he gathered that it had likely been a very high-end store before the outbreak. "I just wanted _time_. I always fantasized about playing dress-up in stores like that, or sleeping overnight in a candy store and getting sick on Skittles and Reese's. Just once I wanted to feel free in the world."

Eugene watched her for a moment, enamored by the memories dancing in her eyes. After a moment, embarrassment swept them away. Her grin faltered, a blush coloring her cheeks, and she cleared her throat.

"Sorry, I don't know why I'm babbling. We should keep-"

"Let's go in."

She blinked. "Go...in-"

"Into the store," he said. And the look on her face, and the way the light kissed her skin, like it was in love with her, too, and just _her_... A grin tugged irresistibly at his lips. "We are free in the world now. We can exist however we want."

"Oh, I don't-"

But he took her hand and tugged her after him, toward the dusty, once-exclusive clothing store that appeared to have remained untouched. There was no use for formal attire in the apocalypse after all.

He savored the way Mason's eyes lit up the moment they stepped inside, the way she couldn't help smiling as she looked around. She glanced at him and let out a self-conscious little laugh.

"I know it's kind of a dumb thing to get so excited about..."

"It's not," he said. "I get it."

Her eyes twinkled. He felt his earlier fears from very far away.

"Well?" he murmured. "Are you all talk or are you going to show me how you look in evening wear?"

She needed no more encouragement than that, cleaning the majority of walker guts from herself before rushing off to pluck clothes from the racks like she was picking apples. Her excitement was infectious. Eugene joined her, picking out suits he never would have had a reason to wear before and that he never could have bought even if he'd wanted to. They giggled at the price tags, the lifestyle they never could have afforded. They scurried to and from the dressing rooms, laughing as they modeled their clothes for each other.

And she was beautiful in absolutely everything. In every dress, in every suit, in the light angling in through the back door as the sun went down, in every single way she existed.

 _This is it,_ he thought. There would never be a better time than now, pretending that the world was theirs.

He took a deep breath.

 _Sharp buttons and hella confidence._

 **Mason**

"Oh, sweet Jesus, you look fucking _hot_."

She stared blatantly at Eugene, buttoning the cuffs of his silken black suit. The material looked as though someone had woven it straight from a spool of night sky. It looked so good on him she could hardly breathe.

She swallowed hard.

"Seriously, fuck you, I can't even look at you."

He huffed a laugh. "Thank you, ma'am. You look pretty gorgeous yourself."

Mason grimaced, turning back to the mirror before her. The dress she was wearing _was_ beautiful, dove gray darkening as it trailed to the hem, a line of gems glittering their way down her left side like the Milky Way. But though she loved it, she wasn't sure it looked quite right on her.

"I don't know..." she said. "I think it's kinda cut weird around the boobs, so it doesn't really fit... I looked good in that purple suit, though, the one with the pinstripes? Ooh, and _you_ looked really good in that sunshine jacket. Yellow really suits you. Ha. Get it? _Suit-_ "

"Mason?"

"Hm?"

She glanced over at him, confused but entranced all the same by the tender smile on his face.

"Mason," he said again, his voice so gentle she felt her stomach do a little flip.

She shook her head, smiling a little. "What?"

Then, slowly, he knelt before her.

Her heart stopped.

He held out his left hand, revealing...a rock. The moon rock she'd found for him, she realized, back when they'd first met, when they'd first pledged their friendship to each other.

She let out a breathless little laugh.

"That doesn't count," she said.

But Eugene just kept smiling, and held out his other hand.

And there was a ring in it.

Mason stared at it, and then at him, and she tried to speak but there was a lump in her throat that hadn't been there before, and her heart was a glowing, fluttering thing in her chest, and it was a ring, it was a _real ring_...

"Mason Reynolds," he said. So softly, devout like a prayer. There were tears in his eyes and she realized then that he was trembling, but there was no hesitation in his voice as he continued. "I could never have dreamed of someone like you. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to even know you, let alone love you."

And suddenly there were tears in her eyes, too, blurring everything.

"Will you marry me?"

The wild thunder of her heart nearly drowned him out. Her lips quivered. Tears trailed down to her chin, but though she felt weak, though she felt limp and starry and wondrously unsteady, she forced herself to speak.

"Yes," she breathed. " _Yes_."

Eugene let out a tiny, broken noise, like a silly, ridiculous part of him hadn't expected her response, and, god, how _radiant_ his face became. He reached out to take her left hand, his own trembling so badly that it took several tries for him to slide the ring on. But then there it was, fitting perfectly on her finger, and it was beautiful and _he_ was beautiful and she thought she would burst out of her skin, she thought her whole body would detonate into stars.

Before he could get to his feet, she was flying into his arms, so forcefully that she knocked him over. He lay beneath her, laughing while she covered him in kisses and said again _yes,_ a million times _yes_ , brushing away his tears with her lips.

When she finally pulled back to look at him, both of them grinning like idiots, he said quietly, breathlessly, "I win."

She just laughed. "Fuck you." Then she held up her hand to examine the ring- two bands of silver like winding ivy, and a starburst of smoky blue stones in a half-circle around a central white diamond.

"It's...is it okay?" Eugene asked, suddenly anxious. "I wanted you to have something unique, and I remember you saying how you preferred a little color in your jewelry, and cards on the table, I thought it was very beautiful, but if it's not to your-"

She put a finger to his lips, halting his nervous rambling.

"I _love_ it," she said. "It's amazing! And it actually fits... How the fuck did you know this would fit?"

"You told me your size once in a fit of rage, remember? Abraham was teasing you about having such small hands and you said it was an absolute bitch trying to find rings that fit. Which, um..." He coughed shyly. "Which was right around the same time I found the ring. Abraham went with me to pick it out."

Mason blinked, processing this. In her head Abraham was giggling like a fucking child.

"Abraham...went with you," she said slowly. "So you've...you've had this... _you've had this since Alexandria_?"

Pink colored his cheeks. "Um. Possibly..."

"You big _chicken_!"

Eugene laughed sheepishly. "That is a correct assessment."

"So wait. So. Wait." She narrowed her eyes. "This is what the others were all freaking out about today, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Tanner lied."

"Yes, Renny and Rosie are fine..."

Eugene trailed off at the look on Mason's face, apparently remembering that he wasn't supposed to know what Tanner had said to her.

Slowly she laid her hands on his arms, pinning him to the floor. "You," she growled, "have nowhere to run."

He squirmed nervously as she lowered her lips to his throat.

"So you'd best start praying."

She got about as far as nibbling on his collarbone before he sat up, brows furrowed, head cocked to the side like he was listening.

"Choppers, Radar?" she teased.

"Walkers, I think. You half-deaf smartass."

They scrambled up to investigate, peering through the dust-screened window to see a herd approaching from the south.

"Guess we should be getting back," Eugene said, peering up at the twilit sky.

But Mason was eyeing a convertible parked at the end of the street. A very nice, very sleek convertible that looked as though it had been taken care of before the outbreak, and was in very good condition considering the state of everything.

And she realized she wasn't done being silly and stupid. She wasn't done owning the world.

"I know you said we should leave the walkers," she said. "But do you think we could just take out this one block?"

 **Eugene**

Hand-in-hand, they raced up the street and into the walker herd. Him in his black suit, her in her gray dress, both of them with guns in their free hands and smiles on their faces. They shot their way through the dead, dressed for a wedding and bloody like a murder scene, laughing and radiantly _alive_.

When they reached the convertible, Mason covered him while he checked to see if he could get it running. Its former owner had babied it enough that even after sitting for a very long time, he managed to hotwire it. He hopped behind the wheel and Mason into the passenger seat, and she howled as they peeled out.

She was a beautiful, wild thing as he drove, the wind in her hair, carrying the sound of her delighted shouts as she aimed her gun out the side of the car. Her ring winked on her left hand like a star.

They were free. In that moment, with her playing target practice from a speeding convertible, him driving like there was nothing that had ever held him back and nothing that ever would again...

They were _free_.

 **Alpha**

She couldn't sleep. Something was prickling under skin, crawling like ants, like spiders. She clawed brutal lines down her arms until blood welled, but she couldn't get rid of the sensation.

 _It's us._

 _We're inside of you._

 _We followed you and we crawled inside._

 _We gutted you and we crawled inside._

 _We're eating you like maggots._

 _We're eating all the dead parts._

God, the whispering, the _whispering,_ it wouldn't _stop_ -

All of the voices clamoring like wolves around her carcass, pinching her flesh with their teeth-

Abruptly she scrambled to her feet. Murph and Nick were asleep near her on the floor, but she moved without stirring either of them.

Outside, the humidity was oppressive. The haze of starlight up above made her feel sick. She stumbled through the street, one hand drifting toward her lips, her index finger sliding down her tongue-

 _You can't vomit us out._

 _We are not the sickness._

"Shut up," she said. " _Shut up_."

There were cold bodies in the street, shuffling toward her. Gnashing their teeth and whispering, hissing obscenities, growling the name she'd long tried to shed.

" _Gina. Gina._ "

She lunged toward them, knife flashing, and in the next moment she was covered in their blood, ravenous for it, foaming at the mouth.

Her knife sank deep, stabbing over and over again. She needed to cut it out of them, she needed to carve the voices from them...

But the whispering didn't stop, not even when she started dissecting them, started sawing away their flesh, peeling it from their bones, separating the muscle and sinew and setting aside the skin like animal hides...

"Alpha."

Slowly

slowly

the voices spiraled away like a record winding down.

She looked up.

Nick frowned down at her, at what she had done, the blood on her hands. She realized she should probably say something, but all she could think in the absence of the voices was, _It's getting worse. It's getting worse._

"What the hell are you doing?" Nick said.

 _Say. Something._

"Camouflage." She lifted one of the skins and slid her arm into its arm as though it were nothing more than a sleeve, a glove.

He raised an eyebrow. "It's easier just to use blood."

"True. But you get caught out in the rain, you're screwed. This method takes a little more effort, but the scent can't wash away."

She forced a smile. It took everything.

"Also, I'm a bit theatrical."

Nick watched her for so long that she wondered if he didn't see past it all to her true intentions, the rage coiling in her gut, the shadows eating her alive.

But then he knelt beside her, took the knife from his belt, and reached for one of the bodies.

"What's the best way to start?" he said and grinned.

NOTE: So I just wanted to say that I know this chapter was pretty fun or fluffy or whatever (I mean, aside from Alpha's scenes) and I totally loved writing it, but we _are_ getting very close to a pivotal chapter, and things are going to get pretty dark pretty quick. Just a warning- I mean, I'm sure ya'll know that the fluff can't last forever but still lol. Anyway! Until next time, you guys, much, much love.


	23. A Thousand Years

Hello, guys! So first thing, these next two chapters are the LAST two chapters before the darkness arrives in like the realest way. And since I am just as excited as ya'll to get to the dark stuff, I kept them short and sweet. This chapter song is "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perry. Yes, it's super sappy but I couldn't help it lol Anyway! As always, THANK YOU guys so much for your reviews and support. I'll be posting the next chapter pretty much at the same time as this one, and I hope ya'll enjoy them both. Let me know what you think!

23\. A Thousand Years

 **Mason**

She swore to all the gods, real, fake and in between, that if her douchebag anxiety did not stop acting up, she was going to kick a hole in the bedroom wall.

Or at the very least collapse into a pathetic puddle on the floor.

Her dress was beautiful, but she was sweltering in it. She wondered if she was about to be one of those brides that passed out at the altar.

A knock at the door jolted her.

"Yes?" she said, her traitor voice cracking five ways from Sunday.

"Can I come in?" Rick asked from the other side.

"Sure."

She continued her pacing as he let himself in, raising an eyebrow in amusement at her manic expression.

"Everything's ready," he said. "All that's missing is the bride."

"Uh...yeah, okay. Yep. Just...give me a sec to get over this crippling stage fright and I'll see you out there."

Rick's lips twitched. "But I'm here for you, Mason."

"What?"

He extended an arm. "I thought I'd walk you down the aisle. It's tradition, right?"

She stared in shock, wondering if she'd heard him right.

Tradition. Tradition, yes, for...for the father...

She swallowed hard, wiping quickly at her eyes. "You...really?"

He grinned and nodded. "I really."

Shyly, she looped her arm through his and he placed a kiss on her temple, careful of the wreath of yellow and purple flowers atop her head. Eugene had woven it for her, just as she'd woven one for him. It was sitting on his head now, she knew, and he himself was waiting for her outside...

Her pulse quickened.

Rick chuckled. "What are you so worried about?"

"Tripping, puking, passing out."

"You'll do just fine," Rick assured her, then carried on cheerfully: "And if you _do_ trip, puke or pass out, or any combination of the three, just remember that Eugene is just as big a coward as you apparently, and that he has absolutely no room to judge."

"Get that smirk off your face."

Her heart pounded with every step as they made their way through the house, to the back door that led directly onto the beach. The little moon rock she clenched in her right hand had grown slick with sweat.

Everyone was seated outside on an assortment of chairs they'd collected for the occasion. They all turned to watch as Rick, his arm steady and comforting on her own, led her forward. She tried not to focus on them. She tried simply to focus on the feel of the sand beneath her bare feet, the brush of Ezekiel's feather on her neck, the soothing rhythm of the ocean.

But then they were at the aisle, and Rick was squeezing her arm, telling her to look up.

She looked up.

Her eyes met Eugene's across the distance.

He was radiant, dressed in a black suit twin to the one he'd worn when he'd proposed. And he was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes welling with tears that overflowed at the sight of her.

Suddenly, she was beaming back at him, all of her fear swept away in a rush of dizzying joy.

She had _waited_.

She had waited her whole _life_ for this day, for _him_ , without even knowing that she was waiting at all.

Rick chuckled at the eagerness on her face and led her down the aisle. She was aware of everyone else only distantly- Daryl watching her with a complicated expression and Sherry sitting next to him, a small smile on her face; Carol glancing proudly, smugly, between Mason and Eugene; all the Misfits huddled together, whispering in awed excitement.

And then she was standing in front of Eugene, her eyes wholly on him as Rick kissed her hand and let her go.

Eugene extended his left hand, where his own moon rock sat, and Mason reached out to clasp her pinky finger around his.

 _(I take my pinky swears very seriously)_

 _(partners in crime)_

Gabriel, presiding over the whole thing, smiled at each of them before addressing the crowd.

"We are gathered today to witness the union of Mason Reynolds and Eugene Porter," he said. "A couple with undeniable _chemistry_ , and from whose holy union they will surely _reap_ the richest rewards."

A chorus of groans rose from the group. Mason and Eugene just laughed.

"Nice one, padre," she said.

He took a bow before continuing. "Mason has made my job very easy today and elected to recite the vows she has written for them both."

Eugene blinked in delighted surprise. Before, when they were planning everything, he'd suggested she write them but she hadn't decided to until the last minute. Mason blushed self-consciously before she began.

"We come to each other, always and again, at the beginning and end of the world," she said. "We see each other, past all subterfuge, under every scar, and we promise to love the absolute truth of the other. To kindle each other's flame, to sing each other safe, to dance with each other's shadows."

As she spoke, she saw again every moment with him, the brightest stars in the constellation of her existence. She felt her heartbeat in every inch of herself, felt his pulse steady in the crook where their fingers met, felt their rhythm join in perfect concert. Linked by warmth and skin, by their matching Wolf scars, by the tiny moons in each of their palms.

"In mountain and desert, in winter and summer, in darkness and light. As the moon around the Earth, orbit each other. As our bodies to the ground, return to each other. To the end of our days, glow for each other, and know, always, that we will walk this world as one, in friendship, understanding, and love."

Smiling, awed, Eugene whispered, " _Le plus doux poète_."

Gently, Mason kissed their joined fingers and Eugene did the same.

Gabriel spread his arms as if to embrace them and said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Mason stared at Eugene, wide-eyed. "Husband," she repeated, squeaking a bit with excitement. "You're my husband."

His eyes sparkled. "Indeed I am, Mrs. Porter," he said, and then he kissed her.

The crowd stood up and cheered, but she was barely aware of them. She was barely aware of anything outside of the feel of Eugene's hands cupping her face, his lips soft and tasting of home.

The spirits were cheering, too, a warm roar filling her mind. Beth and Abraham were among the loudest, and Mason couldn't help remembering that morning she'd sat with Abraham, stealing sips from his flask while he'd urged her to make a move with Eugene. When he'd told her to-

 _"Marry him? Have a beautiful wedding on a beach? Grow old together sipping lemonade on a porch in your rocking chairs?"_

 _Yes!_ Abraham crowed now. _Stick my ass in butter and call me a rump roast,_ _I am officially a fucking fortune-teller._

 _Yeah, like it wasn't obvious they was gonna bone from the minute they met,_ Merle replied.

 _You two better shut the hell up and let my Mason appreciate her wedding day,_ Beth said.

After the ceremony, Mason's music was played through the sound system Dray had set up earlier that morning. She danced with everyone, and everyone was whirl of brightness and laughter, and she was so tirelessly _happy_.

There was

laughing with Michonne while they sipped wine from paper cups

Daryl's hand on her waist while he told her she looked beautiful

Heath stealing the briefest kiss from a jubilant Dave

Morgan and Carol bickering lightly over whose recipes were best

Carl waltzing with Little Asskicker, her feet perched on his

and Eugene

forever Eugene

laughing and dancing and surrounded by the family he had fought so hard for.

And she knew, if they had one year, ten years, a hundred years, it was never going to be long enough. She wanted every day like this. She wanted sunshine instead of gunshots. She wanted ocean tides instead of blood stains.

And she wanted, every single day for the rest of her life, to see her family this happy.

 **Alpha**

It was a trap. It was obviously a trap.

The woman was half-slumped out of the driver's side of a car, handcuffed to the steering wheel. She was dirty and covered in blood, so much that it was difficult to tell what she really looked like. The whites of her eyes stood out like patches of snow against this grime. Occasionally she let out little mewls for help.

It reminded her, painfully, of the role Feral had played for Negan.

Alpha curled her lip in a snarl.

"I see this all the time," Nick whispered at her side. "She doesn't really need help."

"I know that," Alpha hissed, irritated that he thought her capable of falling for a trap with such little imagination.

"So what are we doing hanging around?"

Alpha exchanged a glance with Murph and knew he was thinking the same thing.

People. They needed people, not just for his experiments- which, as of yet, that had told Nick nothing about- but as a fighting force.

She had tried before. She had led a pack of Wolves. She had raised an army of the dead. Each previous attempt had marred by impatience, her own or someone else's. But this time...

There would be no games this time.

She was getting what she wanted, one way or another.

"We're going to trip this snare," she whispered, and before Nick could protest she rose to her feet, stepping out from the cluster of ruined cars where they crouched.

The woman looked up as Alpha crossed the street, launching into a desperate, groveling performance that was more than a little over-the-top.

Still, Alpha pretended to buy into it as she crept forward. The suspicion pinching her face was swept away by a flawless wave of shock and dismay.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "Who did this to you?"

"These- these two guys, they just- they cornered me," the woman babbled. "Please. Please, before they come back."

She tugged on the handcuffs for emphasis, and as she did, Alpha spotted the glint of a knife hidden in the sleeve of the woman's free hand.

Sloppy.

Feigning that she hadn't noticed, she fell to her knees at the woman's side and reached for the handcuffs.

It didn't surprise her when the woman grabbed a fistful of Alpha's hair and slammed her head against the car door. Knowing that it was coming didn't make it hurt any less, however, and the world spun in a sickening lurch.

"Stay down, bitch."

Alpha looked up. Two men, just like the woman had said, their guns pointed straight at her bleary head.

The woman, her expression now as cold as winter, reached into her pocket, withdrew a small, silver key and freed herself from the handcuffs. The knife slipped from her sleeve and into her waiting palm, just like Alpha had taught Mason years ago.

"Don't do anything stupid and I won't have to cut you," the woman said, pressing the knife to Alpha's throat.

Alpha let the woman drag her to her feet, pretending to be confused, frightened.

"Don't hurt me," she whimpered.

"I said I wouldn't, so long as you got a brain," the woman snarled, her breath hot in Alpha's ear. "Now listen. You're gonna give us all your shit, and we won't-"

A gunshot cut her off. The man on the left collapsed with a jagged cry, blood spurting from his leg. The other man whipped around, and with him distracted, Alpha grabbed the woman's wrist and wrenched the knife from her throat.

Twisting on her heel, she snatched a handful of the woman's hair-

Only to draw her hand back with a shout as something sharp bit into her palm.

Razor blades, she realized with a glimmer of grudging respect. The woman had tied razor blades into her hair.

Ignoring the blood dripping from her wounded palm, Alpha grabbed the woman's throat and dug her nail into a pulse point. The woman choked and struggled, but Alpha brought her knee up sharply into her stomach and the woman doubled over.

Her grip on the knife loosened. Alpha snatched it from her and held it a hair's breadth from the woman's eye.

"Don't do anything stupid now," she purred.

" _Bitch_ ," the woman snarled, but cut off with a gasp as Alpha sliced open the skin just beneath her eye. Blood leaked down her cheek like a gruesome tear.

"One more word, and the eye goes."

Across from them, Nick and Murph held the men at gun point. Alpha couldn't help feeling impressed by the grim resolve on Nick's face, though she knew it had been Murph who'd fired the first shot.

The uninjured man glared at them, his gun still half-raised.

"Lay down your weapon," Alpha called loftily. "We will kill you if we have to, but we'd rather not."

"Why?" the man growled.

"Because we want to use everything we can use."

After a moment, he set his gun on the pavement. Alpha smiled.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

"Alright. You have us. Are you just gonna let him bleed out?" the man demanded, casting a worried glance at the other man, whose pant leg was already drenched in red.

Alpha considered. "I could," she said. "It probably wouldn't take long. Looks like Murph nicked the femoral artery. Pretty good aim, for an old coot."

Murph stepped forward. His gun never wavered, but concern welled in his eyes. "I-I'm a doctor," he said. "I can help-"

Alpha held out a hand to silence him. "But that's not coming from a place of altruism," she said with a honeyed smile. "You want his leg fixed, you're gonna have to offer us a little incentive."

"What do you want from us?"

"That's real funny, coming from someone who sets a pathetic trap in the hopes they can steal from others."

"So you want our shit? Fine. Take it. Now _fix_ his _leg_."

The woman cried out as Alpha's knife pierced her skin, scraping the cheekbone. The man fell silent, lips thin.

Alpha's eyes glittered dangerously. "Don't," she said, "demand anything from me. That's not how this works."

"Anything," the man on the ground panted. "We'll do anything. Please."

Nick glanced between him and Alpha, looking sick. But Alpha just grinned triumphantly.

No games this time.

No matter the time, the people, the weapons, the patience. No matter _what_ it required.

Once she had it, no more games.

She was getting what she wanted this time.

"That's what I like to hear."

 **Eugene**

The celebration went on well into the evening. It felt like he was filled up with the revelries of another life- the singing and dancing, the food and the wine. When twilight stole over the beach, he was as exhausted as the rest of them, but the happiness of the group remained undiluted.

Eventually, everyone began returning to the house, discussing whose turn it was to sleep in which room. Hand-in-hand, Mason and Eugene followed them, but Rosita called them back before they could step inside.

"Where are you two going?"

"Um. Inside...?" Mason said.

Rosita shook her head, eyes twinkling. "No, no, no, you two aren't staying in the house. Newlyweds get the honeymoon suite."

"What?"

But Rosita didn't explain. Instead she shared a look with Maggie and Sasha, who grinned like they all knew some amusing secret.

"C'mon," Maggie said and gestured for them to follow. Mason and Eugene exchanged a glance before obeying.

They made their way down the beach, to a tiny path that cut its way up the rock face. The hike took them up the steep incline to the copse of woodland up top, and through that to the little church on the cliff.

Through the stained glass windows, a faint, gentle glow emanated, casting multi-colored puddles in the dark. As they approached, the front doors opened and Dave and Renee stepped out.

"Oh, hey!" Dave greeted them, bouncing a little. "You're just in time."

"Just in time for what?" Mason asked.

Renee motioned them inside. "Check it out."

Mason and Eugene ventured inside, the others following close behind.

Candles were strewn about the room, shedding their flickering light from windowsills and pews. The center aisle was littered with the same yellow and purple flowers that adorned Eugene and Mason. And up front, where the pulpit had once been, a nest of sheets and blankets and pillows, mottled with more petals.

Heat climbed slowly into Eugene's cheeks.

"This way you two can have a proper honeymoon," Renee said. "No sense having it in a house with twenty other people."

"Yeah," Dave said, grinning. "Thin walls, you know."

And...Eugene just about burst into flames with embarrassment.

Renee smirked. "We all know how terrible you are at...ahem...keeping quiet."

The others snickered. Mason glared at them, but as she opened her mouth to reply, Renee held up a finger.

"Wait, wait. This isn't all. We have a second surprise for _you_ , Mason."

"Isn't it more Eugene's present?" Rosita said, lips twitching.

Renee nodded. "I guess he _will_ be the one unwrapping it... But enough with technicalities! C'mon."

Before Mason could protest, the women took her hand and dragged her into the study. When they were gone, Dave gave Eugene a dazzling grin.

"This was a good day for our family," he said. "Like, this was, like... _the_ beginning, you know? This makes it real."

Eugene smiled. "I cannot say I disagree."

"You got your happy ending, man. I think we're _all_ gonna have happy endings here."

Dave reached out to squeeze Eugene's hand before waving goodbye and skipping out the door.

The women emerged a few moments later, though Mason was not among them. Eugene blinked.

"Where's May?" he asked, but they all just scurried past him, laughing.

It was Maggie who paused at the door, turning back to say, "She'll be out in a minute, Eugene." She glanced around the room before rapping her knuckles on the door and smiling.

"This church belongs to heathens now."

Then she turned and left, bidding him goodnight.

Alone, Eugene stood twiddling his thumbs while he waited for Mason to finish...whatever she was finishing. His eyes were drawn to the windows, where mosaic spirits had been depicted in bright colors, immortalized forever in the war between good and evil.

Then the door to the study creaked open, and Mason stepped out.

And he forgot everything else.

She was no longer in her wedding dress, but outfitted in lingerie of deepest violet, lingerie the color of lush twilight.

Lingerie so skimpy it was practically gossamer.

He was hard so suddenly it made his head spin.

Mason didn't fail to notice. "I guess I don't have to ask if you like it," she chuckled. Still, she held herself as though she were self-conscious.

How someone so incredible could be self-conscious...

He snagged her gaze, smoldering with longing. "Come here," he growled.

Delicately she picked her way toward him, glancing up from beneath her lashes. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, slipping his tongue past her lips, her teeth. And the sound of her quiet moan, the way she melted against him, caught his blood on fire.

Though they were both hopelessly tired after such an eventful day, they didn't get much sleep that night.

Neither of them seemed to mind.


	24. I Guess I'm Floating

Okay, so, the previous chapter was all ceremony and foreshadowing. _This_ chapter is an explanatory interim, because there is a two-year time jump. Also, I wanted it to be a sister chapter of sorts to the first interim, which, if you remember, was dark but led to eventual joy. This one opposes that- light and happy, but leads to darkness. I just can't help being a nerd about that kind of stuff lol Anyway, the chapter song is "I Guess I'm Floating" by M83. You should _totes_ give it a listen if you get the chance, it's just a very short instrumental piece but it absolutely captures the feel of this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

24\. Second Interim: I Guess I'm Floating

 **Mason**

Here was her favorite view, more than any other she'd seen. More than the L.A. skyline at sunrise, more than the proximity of stars on the roof of a high-rise, more than the ocean mirroring a cloudless blue sky.

Coming down off the cliff face, the day just barely turning toward sunset, and through the windows of the beach house, her family was moving about inside.

There were Carl and Enid, dressed in ink-stained shirts and deep in conversation. There were Tara and Denise sitting on the couch, laughing at something Gabriel was telling them. There was Carol in the kitchen, sniping with Tanner while Dray sat back and watched in amusement. There was Eugene carrying Little Asskicker on his shoulders, Gracie tugging jealously on his shirt like she always did when she wanted a piggyback ride.

Mason stopped a moment, heart swelling as she took in the scene.

Two years since they'd found this place. Two years of little miracles, one after the next.

Not long after Mason and Eugene's wedding, Rick and Michonne had one of their own, and within another month they were pregnant. Carl and Judith were ecstatic to meet their baby brother, Theo, who had the most cheerful disposition of any infant Mason had ever met.

Tara proposed to Denise one night while the group was having dinner on the beach. Mason had gone with Tara to help pick out a ring, so she hadn't been surprised, but she'd still cried at the bright blush of shock on Denise's face.

The whole group acclimated to their new seaside existence quickly, learning how to fish and desalinate water and keep food cold without refrigerators when the need arose. They grew their garden in the abandoned church, away from humans and wildlife. They scavenged vineyards and the city, and when they had enough supplies they extended the beach house, adding extra rooms around the majority of its perimeter.

And despite all the work, despite contending with so much change, there was _time,_ finally _time._

Time for Daryl to teach Eugene to ride a motorcycle. Sometimes Mason joined them. It was on one such excursion that they found Hobo, a grumpy little blind cat the three of them had fallen instantly in love with. When they brought her home, Judith was so delighted by the idea of having pets that they'd gone out again to search for other strays. They ended up adopting Shiva, a tabby with all the haughtiness of her namesake, and The Void, a rambunctious black cat who loved to swim. Everyone started calling them the Tiger's Three again after that.

There was time for Mason to meditate regularly with Dray, Ashlee and Morgan. She would come back from running laps along the shore while the sun rose and they'd be waiting for her on the cliff with tea. It was because of these mornings, at least in part, that she felt calmer. More grounded, even when trouble arose. She was still anxious, still their Worryin' Warrior, but she knew how to deal with it, how to put it in a cage and come back to it with the proper weapons.

And there was time for her to write. She was _writing_ again. Something she thought she'd never get back to, something she'd given up when the world had gone to shit, but now, settled in their beach house with their sea glass and ocean lullabies, Eugene encouraged her to start up again. He read everything she wrote, even the things she thought were crap, and the joy in his eyes kept her going. She wrote poetry and short stories, horror and sci-fi and romance, every idea that trickled into her head.

After a while, she started letting the others read some of it, too. They began demanding new chapters, sequels, _more_. She wrote children's stories for the kids, which Carl and Enid illustrated. The two of them had busied themselves making their own comics and their artwork was incredible. Evidence of their newfound passion was painted all over the walls and Mason didn't think she'd seen either of them more happy than when they were covered in some colorful medium or other.

They celebrated holidays again. The first winter, after Christmas, Mason and Eugene led half of the group back to Virginia while Rick and Michonne watched over the beach house with those staying behind. The trip took much less time since they knew what to expect, and because gasoline was easier to come by in the city.

The looks on the faces that greeted them when they arrived at the Kingdom were priceless. Mason and Jerry couldn't stop jumping up and down with excitement at being reunited. Ezekiel hugged her and Eugene hard enough to hurt, babbling at the speed of light, asking them what he could do for them and where they had gone and how long they could stay. She had never seen him more ecstatic, to the point where he kept coming close to slipping from that regal facade of his.

The whole Kingdom was eager to house them. Mason and Eugene's old students showed off for them, how they had kept up their training even after the war. And the Alexandrians who had stayed behind, she was pleased to see, had made quite a life for themselves in the Kingdom. Aaron and Eric had adopted two children, a boy and a girl who had once lived with the Saviors. Carl and Enid's old friends could not get enough of the comics they'd made and demanded they bring more the next time they visited.

Their stay was like returning to a dream. There was listening to music with Jerry in the theater; Shiva insisting on cuddling with the Tiger's Three because she did indeed remember them; Ezekiel and Mason splitting pomegranates while he asked for all the details on her wedding; trading California goods for Virginia goods because no matter what Ezekiel said about not needing to bring anything for barter, she was going to replenish the well.

There was only one dark spot, one she'd promised Sherry she would seek out. One the wives were more than happy to divulge.

He suffered, they assured her.

They kept him alive with water but no food, alone in the cell where he'd kept Alexandria, alone with the scars Eugene had given him and the burns Sherry had left on his face. For Dwight.

Three months after Mason led her people out of Virginia, Negan died of starvation.

Mason approved. It was a fitting end, a man of incredible greed and gluttonous villainy, perishing hungry. But a few days before it happened, when he felt death breathing down his neck, he had given the wives a message.

"Tell my little Reaper doll I'll be waiting for her in hell."

Even with time, even with distance, even though he was _gone_ , these words still filled her veins with ice. She had nightmares that night, the first in a long time. But Eugene was there to hold her and wipe the sweat from her face and sing her back to sleep.

On their way back home, they stopped at the Oasis to spend the night and leave their offerings, just as Mason had sworn they would. Another well to drink from and replenish. In addition to food and water, they left personal belongings; Mason left one of her stories. The second winter, Rick and Michonne took the other half of their group to visit the Kingdom, and when they came back Rick told her that people had written sequels and additions to the story.

Two years. Two years floating in a dream.

And now, the windows of the beach house gleamed at her in the late day glow. Dave and Heath, returning from a walk on the beach, hailed her for dinner. She grinned and went to join them.

Two years at the end of the world and all it felt like was a beginning.

 **Alpha**

She found them that first year, after months of searching, playing house down at the beach. There was not a word to describe how she felt, seeing Mason, her _Reaper_ , pretending it was possible to live a normal life.

She had not had enough supplies or people to take them then, but now...

 _Now_.

Now the living wore the skin of the dead. They lived alongside the cold bodies as if they were neighbors, as if they were one. One with the decay, one with the whispering...

No more games, she had promised herself. No more waiting.

It was time.

NOTE: Alright, guys, from here on out, shit's getting real. Very excited but very nervous. Again, I know I said it last chapter, but thank you guys for the reviews and support, I can't say it enough. Until next chapter, much love and let me know what you think!


	25. The Mother We Share

Hello, guys! Firstly, don't let the beginning fool you- this chapter is very much a turning point for the group. Also this is...definitely only the beginning. Just forewarning. Today's chapter song is "The Mother We Share" by Chvrches (who are an _awesome_ band and just released a new album, and it's perfection). Super huge thank you for the reviews and support, you are simply the greatest! Oh, also, there's a shirt that I mention in this chapter that is actually a real shirt (I just mention it here because my anxious ass didn't want anyone to think I was trying to take credit for it or something lol) But yeah I saw it on Pinterest and burst out laughing because it's totally Carol material. Anyway! Enough babbling from me. Hope ya'll enjoy, please let me know what you think!

25\. The Mother We Share

 **Mason**

When she came into the kitchen, still dripping saltwater from her swim, she found Eugene hunched over a plate on the table.

She stopped dead.

"ARE YOU EATING ALL MY SNICKERDOODLES?"

Eugene jumped about a foot in the air, whirling to face her. "Ruh?" he said through a mouthful of cookie.

"You _traitor_ , you're eating all my cookies!"

"No."

" _No_?"

She advanced on him until she had him backed against the counter. He had his arms up in front of him in that nervous mouse way of his, and Mason bit back a smile before reaching out to squeeze his tummy.

He squeaked. "Stop!"

"You better not be picking on my sous chef."

Mason turned to see Carol glaring sternly at her. Eugene took the opportunity to slip out of range of Mason's ruthless fingers.

"So what if I am?"

"If you are, I'll bake you into my next casserole." Carol inclined her head toward the living room. "We're ready."

"Coolioz."

As they followed Carol into the other room, Eugene smirked and rubbed his thumb across the right side of Mason's head, the little section she'd shaved down to peach fuzz yesterday.

"I love this," he said.

She grinned and tugged at his mullet. "I love this," she replied.

"I _told_ you you'd look sexy with a side shave," Dave exclaimed from his seat on the floor.

Heath, laying with his head in Dave's lap, glanced at Mason and said, "Yeah, I totally respect the hair game."

Everyone was gathered in the living room, some of them bearing gifts. It was Mother's Day, the first they'd thought to celebrate, and everyone had pitched in to get Maggie, Michonne and a grudging Carol presents. Mostly, as per the women's request, they were clothes and necessities. But Maggie and Michonne also received necklaces that Rosita and Renee had helped Judith and Gracie make, as well as some paintings from Carl and Enid.

The whole group agreed, however, that Carol's shirt was perfect, something that the Misfits had picked up while scavenging. In bold black letters, it said, "Proud mother of a few dumbass kids."

"Thanks for looking out for all our dumb asses," Dave said and Carol laughed.

They lingered in the living room for a while, talking and laughing, before Mason finally stretched and hopped up off the couch.

Eugene blinked at her. "Where are you off to?"

"Dray, Charlie and I are tending to the garden later. I wanted to get a run in before that," she said and made to leave.

"But there's one last present."

She turned back to face the group. "I thought that was everything."

"Nope," Carl said and pulled what looked like a scrapbook or album of some sort from behind a pillow.

And held it out to her.

She frowned. "For...me? But I'm not-"

"Mama Death," Carl said and everyone smiled.

Mason's throat welled. Hesitantly, she took the book from Carl and opened it.

The first page was simply a note, a dedication.

" _To the dark mother who led us through the badlands, and the bride of spring who awoke on the beach._ "

And on the next page, there were drawings. Panels of them. The graphic novel, she realized, that Carl and Enid had been talking about making for so long.

And...and that was _her_ , sketched in bright colors. Doing everyday things, doing extraordinary things. And the others were drawn, too, all of them. It was...

"Our story," Mason murmured.

"Part history, part legend," Enid explained. "One day, people are gonna talk about this group. They're gonna talk about the Reaper."

And indeed, there she was, looking ethereal and punishing in a whirl of black ink. Yet on the next page, she was brighter, outfitted in her wedding dress and yellow and purple flowers. The difference was stunning put back-to-back like that. She couldn't imagine such two opposing women existing in the same body.

"We've actually been working on it for a long time," Carl said. "We barely finished it last week and we thought today would be the perfect time to show you."

Teary-eyed, she wrapped Carl and Enid in a tight hug.

"Thank you."

 **Eugene**

They spent a good hour flipping through the novel before Tanner announced dramatically that he was starving and Carol suggested he fix lunch before rolling him unceremoniously off the couch.

Grinning, Mason stepped over him. "Well, I'm off. If you end up cooking Tan for lunch, save me some."

The moment she reached for her running shoes, however, something twisted in Eugene's stomach. Unease. He jolted off the couch.

"You're going out now?" he said.

"Uh...yeah." She didn't look up from tying her shoes, but her brows furrowed at the edge in his voice. "What's up?"

"Why don't you stay?" he suggested. "Just...for a little while. Help make lunch."

He couldn't place where the sudden foreboding had come from. It had struck him seemingly out of nowhere, vague but adamant. All he knew was that last night, he had woken from a nightmare he couldn't quite remember, only that there had been blood, and a grave marker, and a feeling like being buried alive, and it hadn't been on his mind before but now, _now_ it pressed relentlessly against his skull, heaving like a stormy sea-

"Help make lunch?" Mason arched an eyebrow. "You anxious to catch the kitchen on fire?"

"We'll keep you on other non-combustible duties."

"My clumsy ass will manage somehow. Look." She straightened, reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt. "I won't be gone long. When I get back, I can help you make some more cookies and we can set the kitchen on fire then, how about that? I mean, your thieving ass doesn't deserve any help, but still."

She pecked him on the lips. And the urge to wrap her in his arms, to convince her to stay, was almost overwhelming.

In the end, he simply said, "Be careful, May."

"Don't be such a fussbudget, Gene Bean."

 **Alpha**

"What did you do?"

Slowly, head still reeling, Alpha looked up. Murph was staring down at her, horrified by the blood drenching her, horrified by the three corpses strewn about like ragdolls.

She knew them. She recognized them now that they were quiet. Three of her recruited soldiers, back from patrolling the Reaper's border. They'd seen her wandering the woods near the derelict brewery they'd been calling home now for several months. They'd been trying to make their report, she remembered now. But they'd come upon her at the wrong time.

"They wouldn't be quiet," she finally said. Her voice sounded very far away from her body. The blood on her hands was still warm but drying, sticky.

"Oh, Miss..." Murph murmured and reached out to pull her to her feet. She let him, staggering a bit. "I thought this was getting better."

"It's obviously not," Alpha replied, too disconnected to put much bite in her voice. "I'm just an excellent liar."

They were gutted, the bodies. She'd been trying to skin them. She'd been trying to dig the voices out.

"We need to drag these bodies off, so the others will think the dead got them," Murph said.

She didn't particularly care what the others thought, but she helped him anyway. As they worked, quickly, quietly, she saw shadows moving in the corner of her eye. She gritted her teeth and willed them away, but of course they never listened.

 _You can't get rid of us, Regina,_ her mother said.

 _You don't want to get rid of us,_ Feral said.

"Like hell I don't," she hissed.

Murph's eyes pinched with concern. "Let's get you back inside, Miss. Clean you up."

She jerked away from the hand he offered. "I need to get to the border," she said. "They said Mason was out."

"I didn't think we were moving today..."

"We're not. I just-" She shoved past him, feeling heavy in her bones, feeling sluggish with all the ghosts climbing on her back. "I won't be gone long."

He tried to call her back but she ignored him, playing with the strap of the gun on her back. The shadows clung to her peripheral vision. She could feel it in the back of her mind- not whispering. Not yet. More like the building promise of it, as sure as thunder after the lightning.

She had done her absolute best to hide it from her army. She truly didn't care what they thought, but if they knew how unsteady she was they might not feel fit to follow her anymore. Nick, of course, was irritatingly observant- he knew something was up, although she'd never confided it to him. And Murph knew her better than all the others, though it galled her to admit.

 _Not getting soft, are you, daughter?_ her mother sneered. _You know what sentiment does to a person._

 _I'm not,_ Alpha thought. _Fuck off._

 _I think maybe you've been soft for a while. Don't you remember what you wanted all those years ago? You wanted Mason dead. You wanted to punish her. Now look at you. All this, just to win her heart again. Precious._

 _I'm not trying to_ win her heart, Alpha thought, grinding her jaw. _I'm reclaiming what's mine._

 _So you're going to let her off the hook for abandoning you. For choosing others over you._

 _No. I'm taking that from her. She needs to learn her lesson, I will make sure of that. But after that, she is going to stand at my side. She is going to be my queen._

 _She is weak. Sentimental._

 _She is the Reaper. There is a darkness in her. I will teach her to embrace it._

 _She won't forgive you for harming her family._

Alpha barked a laugh. "She'll thank me for liberating her from that sheep herd. She won't have to mother them anymore."

 _She loves them more than she ever loved you._

Alpha went rigid. "Say that again."

Her mother laughed. A vague suggestion of her shape, of her perfect blonde hair, flickered on the edge of Alpha's vision.

 _She never loved you. Not really. You tricked her into caring about you._

Wrath flooded Alpha's veins. She doubled her steps, hoping to outpace the golden-haired ghost jeering at her. But it was no use. There was no outrunning the voices, no outrunning anything-

Still, she broke into a useless sprint, plowing through the undergrowth. The whispering chased her, nipping at her heels. Several cold bodies milled across her path. She barreled into them, sending them to the ground like bowling pins.

Her knife flashed. Putrid blood soaked her. Time passed in a shuddering crash and in the next moment she was slipping into a new skin, a skin slimy and patchwork with rot.

 _They won't find me here,_ she thought wildly. _They can't scent me out. I'm one of them._

Yes, one of them, one of the Whisperers.

 **Mason**

She fucking loved running on the beach.

It provided a workout a bit like running through snow and she felt fantastic afterward. Which was exactly what she was hoping for this time, because she couldn't get Eugene, the look on his face, out of her mind.

He'd been anxious when she left, like she was planning on something more dangerous than a simple jog. But she didn't know where it had come from, and she suspected he hadn't, either. If he had, he would have simply told her.

 _Generalized anxiety,_ she told herself. _Same as me._

Except...they knew how to deal with that...

 _Don't work yourself up,_ she thought irritably, turning up her music. _Everything's fine._

Still, with every step, misgiving prickled her nerve endings. Last night, for the first time in many months, she'd been jarred awake by a nightmare she couldn't perfectly recall. She remembered only blood, and a wooden cross, and a sense of utter dread that sank its teeth in the back of her neck like a killing blow...

 _That_ was what it felt like, the slow-blooming apprehension creeping up her spine. Changing winds. _Intuition._

In the same heartbeat she realized this, her eyes darted up, drawn by a flicker of movement on the cliff above.

It was a walker, or at least that's what she thought at first.

She slowed when she saw the gun strapped to its back.

She jarred to a halt when the walker cocked its head, turned on its heel and raced toward the woods.

 _Raced_.

Quick, like a doe.

"What the fuck...?" Mason breathed, sliding her headphones down around her neck and pocketing her iPod. Unslinging her fire poker, she headed for the little path snaking up the rock face.

It couldn't have been a walker. Walkers didn't run, they weren't graceful. But what the hell else could it have been?

 _Mason..._

Beth's voice came like a whisper. She almost thought she felt a wisp of warm, rain-scented breath tickle her ear.

 _What?_ she thought toward the voice, taking that last step up the path to where the ground leveled out.

The walker-thing stood a few yards away in the trees, waiting like something out of a nightmare, its silhouette so sinister, so _wrong_ , that the hairs on Mason's arms immediately stood on end. But it was not this that ground her to a halt.

It was the gun. The gun that was no longer on the walker's back but in its hands.

Aimed at her.

Her heart stopped for a moment and when it restarted it was at a quicker meter.

Not a walker. Not a walker.

God, was she hallucinating?

"Hey," she managed to say after a moment, holding her hands up in surrender. "Easy."

The thing didn't speak at first, but its whole body quivered, as if in fear. As if in rage.

Mason swallowed. "Um. Can you...can you put the gun down? I won't hurt you if you don't try to hurt me, but-"

" _Shut up_ ," the thing hissed. " _Shut up shut up_."

So it was human. Or some variation thereof.

 _Maybe the walkers are evolving,_ she thought dizzily and had to stifle a hysterical laugh at the thought.

No, no, it was human, it had to be. A human that looked like a walker. A human...

The breath caught in her throat.

A human wearing walker skin.

A human in walker skin like that Wolf Eugene had burned-

" _Fuck_ ," she breathed and took an unconscious step forward. To do what, she wasn't sure, and she never got the chance to figure it out.

The gun went off.

An unbelievable starburst of pain shook the breath from her and suddenly the world was whirling, tumbling, over and over and over.

No, the world wasn't tumbling. She was. Back down the cliff, hitting rock after rock, spinning blood into the air like gruesome meteorites.

She hit the bottom hard, choking on sand. Her stomach was burning, her stomach was on _fire_ , like she'd drank gasoline and swallowed a match.

Her hands fluttered like broken birds, ghosting toward the burning. They slid in wet heat and the pain spiked. She cried out.

Her fingers came away covered in red. Blood, she realized. It was taking so long to figure things out.

 _Mason._

Beth's voice again, soothing as rain after a drought. She clung to the sound.

 _I've...I've been shot,_ she thought dimly, shuddering with agony.

 _Yes, you have. But I'm right here, okay? I'm right here._

Mason nodded, trying to hold onto that voice. But her vision was slipping at the edges and the pain was too much, she needed to get away from it, she needed...she needed unconsciousness...

 _No,_ Beth said sharply. _Stay awake. Just keep listenin' to me, alright?_

And she started singing. That bright, beautiful voice, spinning melodies like shafts of light through a window.

Something wet and salty was rising in Mason's throat. The ocean...sea water...she was filling up with tidal waves.

She opened her mouth to say as much, and retched blood.

 _Well that can't be good,_ she thought idly.

" _Mason_!"

She blinked. That wasn't Beth's voice. Shivering, she turned her head, in time to see...to see Rick racing toward her, spraying sand as he skidded to her side.

" _No, no, no_ ," he said, hands fluttering over the wound in her stomach. "Mason- sweetheart-"

Another ripple of pain had tears springing from her eyes. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Rick's face, to make sure he was really there.

" _Dad_ ," she whimpered.

Suddenly, he was lifting her into his arms. She could tell he was trying to be gentle but the motion still set her wound to burning. She tried to stifle a cry and failed.

"It's okay, sweetheart, I've got you," he murmured. Then he began to run.

The beach blurred sickeningly around her. Each step he took, every movement, was agony to her belly, but he kept up a stream of murmuring to soothe her when she flinched.

"I've got you, sweetheart, I've got you."

Beth was still singing. Mason took that to mean that she still needed to stay awake, but all she wanted was to slip into numbing darkness.

Her body was a limp flame in Rick's arms. She coughed and spattered his shirt with red.

 _Stay awake,_ she thought. _Stay awake._

It was harder with every step.

 **Eugene**

"Eugene, _wait_ -"

"That was a gunshot, Dave. You heard it."

He shoved his way past Dave and grabbed one of the rifles they kept by the front door. Carol, Rosita and Renee followed his lead.

His heart was pounding, the dread from that unknown well pumping through his veins like liquid lightning.

He shouldn't have let Mason go out alone, he shouldn't have-

He stopped dead at the threshold.

Rick was running toward the house, carrying someone in his arms, slick with blood.

Mason.

 _Mason._

Eugene felt his legs turn to water but somehow he was still able to stumble forward, tossing his gun aside.

Mason reached for him when she saw him, choking on blood, her hands covered in it. He was overcome by a vision of her in his own arms, bleeding out every drop in her body as he carried her up a mountain...

"What happened?" he said, shadowing Rick as he carried her into the house. Mason croaked his name and he was allowed only the briefest opportunity to hold her hands.

But then Renee and the others were there, and Renee was shouting for Denise, and she was taking Mason from Rick just as she'd taken Mason from Eugene on that mountain. Her hands slipped from his and it felt like ripping a hole in his chest.

They carried her to one of the back rooms, the same one Michonne had given birth in, the one where they kept all the medical supplies. Renee laid Mason on the bed, asking for her blood type. Denise rushed around, gathering things...

Everything

everything was chaos.

"Someone shot her," Rick rasped.

The room was spinning.

"Who? Did you see them?" Tanner thundered.

Eugene tried to stumble after Mason, but Renee pushed him away.

"We need space," she said.

His legs were numb now.

"I- I can help-"

"I need steady hands," Renee said. "I'm sorry."

As she whirled back into the room, calling for Rosita and Dray to assist, he glanced at his hands. Surprised to find that they were shaking. He couldn't stop them.

"What happened..." he whispered, nearly inaudible. "What...what happened?"

Rick shook his head, his eyes too bright.

"I don't know."

Eugene tried to draw breath and couldn't. His lungs were dissolving.

"What happened...what-" He shook his head, tears running fast and hot down his cheeks. "Is she gonna be okay? Is she gonna be okay, is she-"

He stumbled and Rick rushed forward to catch him, wrapping him in a fierce embrace. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he was sobbing...

"I'm here. I've got you," Rick said. "She's gonna be alright, Eugene. Renee and Denise are gonna take good care of her. They will."

Distantly, Eugene was aware of Daryl pacing close by like an angry lion. Tanner and Charlie were readying weapons, Carol, Michonne and Gabriel crouched by the windows with guns...

"Man, what the hell are we waiting for?" Daryl finally snarled. "We should be stringing this fucker up by his balls."

Rick held out a warning hand. "Because we don't know who did it or how many there are of them. We can't risk going out there when it could be a trap."

Sherry nodded. "It probably is. It's not like they'd be planning to surround us, we'd see them coming a mile away."

Gracie started crying. Maggie scooped her up in her arms and tried to quiet her. Theo, sitting up in Carl's lap, just looked around in utter bewilderment.

It was Judith, surrounded by the cats as she usually was, who looked up and said, "Don't be scared, Uncle Gene. Auntie May will be okay and we'll protect her."

Slowly, Eugene blinked. There was such assurance in her voice, like she _knew_ with absolute clarity it was the truth. And for some reason, this innocent, decided faith eased the pressure on his lungs just the slightest bit. At least enough to speak again.

"You think so, princess?" he croaked. It took everything just to get the words out, to not collapse against the wall.

She nodded. "Uh huh."

Rick offered him a tight smile. "See? If Judy says everything's gonna be alright, then it will be. Right now, we need-"

Suddenly, the door to the makeshift infirmary opened and Eugene jerked toward it, heart stinging. Renee stepped out, her hands veiled in red.

"We need blood," she said. "O positive or negative. Anyone got it?"

"Me," Jesus said, stepping forward and rolling up his sleeves. "I'm O positive."

"Me, too," Enid said.

Renee nodded, steely with resolve. "Jesus, we'll take you first. Enid, you stick close in case we need to tag you in."

Eugene watched, grateful, anguished, as Jesus followed Renee into the infirmary. Wishing he could help, desperate to do _something_.

 _Someone shot her._

The words whirled in his head, building tension like a microburst.

Someone had shot her.

Someone had shot her.

Beneath his panic, something else was roaring. He focused on that. Because if there was nothing he could do, nothing to alleviate the fear, he would much rather be consumed by something else.

Rick saw it when Eugene's eyes flickered to the front door, to the gun he'd left outside.

"No," Rick growled.

"Someone shot her," Eugene said. His voice was not his own. It was frigid as winter, burning like a flame. "I will not let them get away with it."

"And we won't. But _you_. _You_ need to stay here for her. I won't let you run off to get yourself killed or captured. I get it, Eugene, I do. But I won't let you walk out that door. I'll break your legs if you try."

Something flickered in Rick's eyes as he spoke, some dark memory.

Eugene clenched his fists, trembling. With rage, with fear, with the need to draw blood. A more reasonable part of him knew that Rick was right. He couldn't leave, not when Mason...not when she could so easily-

No.

He couldn't think that. Couldn't stand even considering it.

But his veins were burning and his heart was ice and he wanted vengeance, he wanted to see whoever had hurt Mason suffer.

Someone touched his arm. He blinked, realizing that Sasha had appeared at his side.

"You should help me fortify the house," she said. Her eyes were iron-steady, but her voice was gentle. "Reinforce windows and doors, just in case."

 _Busy work_ , Eugene wanted to say. But she was trying to distract him, and he appreciated the effort.

"Alright," he rumbled, still with that dark voice. The voice of the Chemist.

Judith jumped to her feet. "I wanna help!"

Sasha smiled. "We would love for you to help, Judy."

Judith took the hand that Sasha offered. The Void mewed in protest and chased after her. Eugene breathed through his nose, trying to steady the wild mess his heart had become. Closing his eyes briefly to the world before following them.

 **Alpha**

She would not be afraid. She would not give into the horror creeping up her spine.

Yes, she had shot Mason, but Mason would survive. She would. She had to. Alpha had _not_ come all this goddamn way, gone through all this bullshit, just to have murdered Mason in a psychotic fit.

Nick, however, was not helping her anxiety.

"You _shot_ her? You fucking _shot_ the person you've been looking for all this time? What the hell is your _problem_?"

"Everything's fine," she lied smoothly, only the barest hint of a quiver in her voice. "I had to shoot one of them to get their attention, and Mason was there."

Nick glared at her in disbelief. " _You didn't have to fucking shoot anyone_!" he said. "I thought you had a plan, I thought we were doing this differently."

 _We were, until Mother Dearest stuck her nose in,_ Alpha wanted to say.

Until it had been hard to tell the difference between her mother and Mason, their voices.

Until she had fired the gun without thinking, only knowing that she needed the whispering to stop, she needed it to _stop_.

Instead she said simply, "We were, but then I thought of something else. Something better."

Nick eyed her with disgust. "And you didn't think to run it by the rest of us?"

She shrugged. "I thought of it last minute and I had to act quick."

"Alpha knows what she's doing," Murph said quietly. "She wouldn't take any unnecessary risks. Not when we're so close."

But even as he said it, his eyes flickered to her, as if to say, _At least I certainly hope not._

Her lips curled in a cocky grin, though her eyes remained hard. Cold. "Of course not. But it's better if Mason's people come to us. Less variables than if we were to go to them like we planned."

Nick still looked unconvinced, that admirable, pain-in-the-ass intelligence gleaming in his eyes.

Alpha kept grinning, wondering how much of her he saw through, and if she'd have to kill him for it.

Finally, Nick shook his head. "Well, we can't go back now so we may as well go through with it."

Alpha nodded as if he'd had a choice in the matter. "This really is best," she said.

Or rather, this was how they cleaned up the mess she'd made.

She gentled her tone a bit as she went on, thickened it with emotion. "Believe me, I wish it hadn't been Mason. But I know she would want me to do whatever it take to get her free. She values that more than safety, she always has."

That, at least, was not a lie.

There were weak spots in her story, she knew, but she hoped she spoke with enough sincerity that Nick would overlook them. Delivery was everything.

"So what now?" he asked. "What's this new plan of yours?"

"Simplest is best," she said. "We make our camp in the woods on the cliff. And we wait."

 **Mason**

Her eyes opened slowly, reluctantly. She was tired, the kind of sluggish, resistant tired she felt when she slept through a sickness.

For a moment, she couldn't remember how she'd gotten here. She was in the infirmary, which didn't make sense. Either Renny and Rosie slept here or Denise and Tara did, so that, in case there was an emergency, they were close to their medical supplies.

She raised her head just slightly, in the same moment realizing that she was very warm. Not feverish, but cozy. And that something was buzzing rhythmically over her heart...

No, not buzzing. Purring.

She blinked at Hobo, curled up on her chest. Shiva lay on Mason's right, lounging possessively across her arm. And Judith was snuggled up on Mason's left, one arm hooked around Mason's, her other gripping a crumpled paper.

And Mason remembered.

The gun going off, tumbling down the hill, her bleeding stomach...

Her fingers twitched, anxious to check the wound, to see how bad it was, but her arms were pinned.

"She drew you a picture."

Mason turned to find Eugene sitting in a chair next to her bed, The Void purring in his lap. Renee was slouched in a chair by the wall, sleeping deeply. Eugene offered Mason a small, strained smile, but there were deep shadows under his eyes, eyes that were curiously red, as though he'd been crying...

"She wanted you to color it in when you woke up," he went on. He looked so worn, exhausted. "Coloring makes her feel better when she's sick."

"That was sweet of her," Mason rasped.

Eugene nodded, eyelids drooping.

Mason frowned. "When's the last time you slept?"

Eugene huffed a quiet laugh. "Mrs. Porter, you just suffered a traumatic injury and you're worried if I'm tired?"

"I'm worried because you look like shit run over twice."

"You, too," he replied, giving her a humorless smirk. Then he sighed. "I haven't kept a running tally, but I suppose it's reasonable to assume I have been awake for a good forty-eight hours or so."

" _Forty-eight_?" Mason said and then gasped, wincing at the jab of pain in her abdomen.

Eugene jerked toward her, enough that The Void startled awake and let out a meow of complaint.

"Easy, May," Eugene said. "Any sudden movement will cause significant pain."

"Noted," Mason said tightly.

Judith twitched, grumbling in her sleep. Hobo lifted her head and brushed her nose against Mason's chin, as if to comfort her.

"So I've been out for two days?"

Eugene's eyes tightened. "On and off, yes. I suppose you don't remember the times you were conscious."

"Not really..."

Brief flashes of agony and screaming, that was all she could recall. She grimaced.

"I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?"

"For...I don't know. I don't want ya'll to have to fuss about me." She knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't help feeling a little self-conscious.

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Nothing," Eugene growled. His eyes were icy, though she knew it wasn't aimed at her. After a moment, he sighed through his nose and Mason recognized the effort he took to tame the wretched anger climbing in him.

"You're lucky Rick was out checking the nets when he was," he said, a shade of some new emotion coloring his voice. Guilt.

Mason narrowed her eyes. "Don't start that," she said. "This isn't your fault."

"I shouldn't have let you go out alone."

"Eugene, neither of us could have known this was going to happen."

But he just shook his head impatiently. "Do you remember anything? About who shot you?"

Instantly, a chill flooded her veins.

The thing dressed as a walker, yes. She remembered.

"I..."

The door opened before she could summon the nerve to get the words out, to speak them aloud and make it...make it real.

Denise smiled as she stepped inside, relief brightening her face.

"You're awake."

"Looks to be that way, yeah," Mason said.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Tired."

"I'll get you some more painkillers as soon as I check how you're healing up, alright?"

"Do what you gotta do, doc."

Denise pulled Mason's shirt up to examine the bandage on her belly, and as she did, Mason glanced at Eugene. He was looking back at her, brow furrowed, as if he could read clearly the fear in her. The story she had to tell.

The bandage turned out to need changing. While Denise worked, exchanging the pink-stained dressing for a fresh one, Judith stirred.

"Auntie May, you're up!" she said and held out her drawing. "Look what I made for you."

The drawing was of a vaguely human shape standing by a tree, surrounded by cats. Mason smiled.

"Aw, thanks, it's beautiful!"

"Thanks. I'm gonna make more, too. You'll feel better when you color them. Carl draws pictures for me when I don't feel good so I can color them."

Mason reached out- gingerly, conscious of every movement- to ruffle Judith's curls. "I feel better already."

"Hey, Judy, you wanna do me a favor?" Denise said. "You wanna go and tell your daddy that Auntie May's up?"

"Okay," Judith said brightly, leaving Mason with the drawing and hurrying out of the room.

A few moments later, Rick, Daryl and Jesus wandered in, looking tentative but relieved. Mason smiled, trying to stifle a wave of sheepishness.

"Hey, guys."

"Good to see you with your eyes open," Jesus said, smirking a bit. "It's boring when you're unconscious."

"Yeah, that's the main reason I didn't let myself die, to entertain you."

"I appreciate that."

"Jesus saved your life," Denise said. "Two transfusions."

Mason blinked. "Really?"

"I told you," Jesus said, eyes twinkling. "It's boring when you're unconscious."

"Well. Um. I guess I have to hate you a little less now, huh?"

"Nah. I'd never ask that much of you," he said and winked.

She smiled a little. "So Jesus really does save..."

He snorted.

"How are you feeling, Mason?" Rick asked.

"I sorta feel like I was just shot. Is that too on the nose?"

His lips twitched, but his eyes darkened.

"Do you think you could tell us what happened out there?"

Mason couldn't help flinching a bit. Denise touched her head soothingly, throwing Rick a warning look.

"If you can't right now, that's fine. You need to focus on healing."

"No, it's okay," Mason replied. "You guys need to know."

Denise appraised her doubtfully, not just doctor now but therapist as well. Mason tried to look more mentally stable than she felt. Finally, Denise sighed.

"If you're sure, I'll step out and let the others know you're up and talking. When you're ready, I'll send them in."

"Do you think I could go to them? I don't...I don't want to talk to them from this bed like some invalid."

She didn't want them to see her like this. She had relinquished all real leadership back to Rick, but even so...

Denise frowned, but Renee spoke up from where she remained slouched, eyes closed, in her chair. "It won't do her any harm to walk around a bit, so long as she doesn't overdo it. Her body will tell her when to rest."

With that settled, Mason launched into her story, petting Shiva and Hobo to keep her heart rate down as she described the walker on the cliff, and how it had run, and how she had realized it wasn't a walker at all.

"It stood there with its gun aimed. It spoke. It was a living human..."

She trailed off, eyes flickering to Eugene, who had gone absolutely still.

"A human wearing walker skin."

He held her gaze, a fury of emotion shadowing his face. The understanding between them darkened the room.

Rick blinked, shaking his head. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Daryl glanced from her to Eugene and back again. "You think it was her?" he asked quietly.

"Who?" Rick said, but no one answered him at first.

"Wait, are you talking about Leslie?" Jesus said.

"The Wolf," Eugene affirmed, and then addressed Mason. "You didn't get a look at her real face?"

"No, but... It's just too much of a coincidence, don't you think?"

Rick huffed. "Would someone care to explain what the hell you're talking about?"

Mason hesitated only briefly.

"It's a long story..."

~m~

"There hasn't been any movement on the cliffs," Sasha said.

"They could be coming from another angle," Carol replied.

Tanner snorted. "What, by sea?"

Carol, unperturbed by his disdain, merely said, "Never assume anything about your enemy."

The group was gathered in the living room- all except Ashlee and Enid, who were minding the kids, and Dray, who was perched on the roof, keeping watch.

Mason sat on the couch between Renee and Denise. Another day of rest had lent her more strength, and despite the ache in her abdomen, the delicate way she had to handle things to avoid worsening it, she did feel more alert. Still, her two doctors insisted on keeping close tabs on her; the risk of infection still remained.

"There is nothing that this particular enemy won't do, I think we should all be aware of that," Eugene growled, his voice low, menacing. He sat in the chair closest to the couch, twirling his butterfly knife with manic precision. His eyes glowed like a winter twilight.

"He's right," Rosita said. "If it really is Leslie, the Wolf, _whoever_ the fuck she really is, we can't let our guard down."

"We can't stay trapped in this house," Charlie said. There was an edge to her voice, and Mason knew she was thinking of those years she and the Misfits had spent trapped in the mountain house.

"We could send out patrols," Tara suggested. "Go a little further each time."

"We shouldn't separate," Maggie said.

"What if that's what they want? All of us together?" Gabriel said.

"We can't just sit here, afraid of every outcome," Eugene snapped, startling the others. "Any number of things could happen, and we should be prepared for them, but we cannot afford to cower like rabbits in this goddamn house."

"Eugene," Mason murmured. He glared back at her.

"Someone shot you, Mason. I don't care what I have to do. I don't care who it is. They have sewn their poison with me."

"So what are you thinking, Eugene?" Michonne said. Her voice was dangerously calm, a clear challenge in her eyes. "You just gonna go out there, no game plan, stupid with anger, and get yourself shot, too?"

A muscle feathered in his jaw. "I said we should prepare for anything," he said.

"I'm not talking about us. I'm talking about you."

There was a beat of silence, thick with tension. Mason watched Eugene with growing desperation, wishing that violent energy building in him would abate. Wishing the ice in his eyes- too much like how they'd looked after Negan- would melt.

"I am not about to do anything stupid, Michonne," he said quietly.

Michonne narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing him.

"She's right, Eugene," Rick said. "We need a plan for _all_ of us. As a group. No one is acting on their own until we've come up with one."

Eugene twitched his head, still flipping his knife in persistent cartwheels. "By all means, continue planning. But this is not a chess board, and will not remain silent for us to cherry-pick our next move."

Mason exchanged an uneasy glance with Rick.

And just to get that look off of Eugene's face, just to stop the pirouette of that knife, Mason rose from the couch and placed herself in his lap, snuggling against his chest until he wrapped his arms around her.

 **Eugene**

He awoke sometime before dawn and gently extricated himself from Mason's arms. Briefly, he pressed his hand to her forehead, and when he had ascertained that she was not feverish he climbed carefully out of bed. She murmured a faint protest in her sleep but did not wake.

His things were already prepared, hidden in a rucksack under the bed. For a moment, as he slipped it over his shoulder, checked his belt for his weapons, everything felt eerily reminiscent of that night he'd decided to sneak into the Saviors' compound. It took him a moment to banish the goosebumps, the wave of foreboding that chilled his bones.

The group's plan was still forthcoming, and his frustration at their hesitance had only spurred him on. Maybe he was acting rash, but at least he was _doing_ something.

On the roof, he knew, Gabriel, Maggie, Michonne and Carol were keeping watch, compass rose divisions. But there was cloud cover veiling the moon, the stars. The ocean would mask his footsteps.

And there was a blind spot, just small enough for one person to sneak out of range.

He prowled silently through the dark, utilizing every bit of woodsman wisdom Daryl had instilled in him. He felt a part of the shadows himself, cold and unreachable. When he found the path snaking up the cliff side, he drew the bow from his back and nocked an arrow. Until he knew what he was dealing with, silent weapons were best.

 _Eugene..._

The voice was faint, but it was Beth's. He recognized it from his dreams.

 _Not now, darlin',_ he thought. He could not allow himself to be distracted, even by ghosts in his head.

The voice didn't come again. The only sound came from the whisper of the wind through the leaves as he stepped into the woods.

NOTE: Welp. Goodbye, fluff, it's been fun! *cue Simon and Garfunkel* _Hello darkness, my old friend..._ Lol no but seriously, I am excited to get to this part in the story and I have been for a while, but I just wanted to take this moment to say that, um, there _is_ going to be character death before the end. I obviously can't say who or when, but I just wanted you all to be aware that not everyone's gonna come out the other side of this alive. So...yeah, on that note, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter lol I hope to have the next one out as soon as possible, but until then, much, much love, ya'll.


	26. The War

Alright, guys, so...there is every possibility that ya'll might be mad at me for something that is going to happen in this chapter. I'm actually really freaking nervous to post this one. I mean, honestly, I really had fun writing it. On one side, you have Eugene being an absolute fucking _badass_ (which I am so totally one hundred percent _here for_ ) as well as lots of action and fun stuff like that, but...also...it's not a happy ending guys. I'll just apologize right now for that. The chapter song is "The War" by SYML, it's pretty cool. Really captures the feel, both of this chapter and of what it catalyzes. Thanks SO MUCH for your reviews, I always, always appreciate them. (Oh, and thanks lindir's gaze, that's actually something I always was nervous about w/ this fic, having to juggle so many characters. Glad I'm not completely botching it lol!) Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter (and that you don't hate me by the end!) As always, let me know what you think.

26\. The War

 **Alpha**

It couldn't have worked out any better.

The Chemist. _The Chemist_ was wandering into their wood _alone_ , wearing a look on his face that promised vengeance, wearing a look like he thought he was invincible.

Wearing his cloak.

The sheer perfection of the whole situation had her hissing with delight. She flitted back on silent feet to alert the others.

 **Eugene**

Something was off. It was not something he could detect with his physical senses but rather something he felt in his gut, some ominous shadow climbing his spine.

He was not alone. There was no sound of wildlife, but he was not alone.

He shivered, telling himself it was because of his cloak, which was still damp and smelled of chemicals. His hands, wrapped in gauze up to the knuckles, groaned lightly from gripping his bow for so long. Every nerve prickled the deeper he ventured into the inky woods.

At first, when it started, he mistook it for the wind.

Sighing, ghost-like, the sound was no more than a breath, near-imaginary in the dark. He dismissed it. A breeze, nothing more. Nothing to get spooked over.

But then it came again. Clearer.

" _Eugene..._ "

He stopped, the hairs on the nape of his neck standing on end.

" _Eugene..._ "

It came again, this time on his left. He turned, bow raised, but another voice whispered from his right.

" _Eugene..._ "

Another voice joined it, another and another and another, all drifting together like blood in water. There were shadows moving, flickering all around him. Circling him. The familiar smell of death choked the air, and the dull, relentless groan of walkers, but the voices never faltered.

He stood grim-faced in the eye of this whispering storm, gaze darting back and forth as he took in his odds. He was surrounded completely, but it was hard to tell how deep in the dark, hard to tell how many were actual walkers and how many simply looked like them.

And then one silhouette broke from the rest, and he could tell she was different. She _moved_ different. Grace and cunning and insanity.

It filled his veins with ice, the sound of her voice.

"Chemist," she purred. "Fire-tamer. It's good to see you again. You can try to fight your way out if you want. You'll serve me just as well dead as you will alive."

Eugene said nothing. His mind was all cold calculation, nothing in it that wasn't necessary.

 _Play the game_.

Slowly, he lowered his bow.

"Smart," she said. "But then, I knew you were. Come with us. We're not going far."

Without another word, she turned and walked away. The shadows began pressing in, herding him after her, their whispering ceaseless. He obeyed silently.

They truly didn't go far, just a few yards east. He frowned when they stopped. The place looked no less unremarkable than where they'd been previously, no signs of permanence. But a few of the others broke from the pack surrounding him. He tensed, preparing to fight, but there came no attack. Instead they knelt, and there was the coarse snap of matches striking sandpaper before three campfires flared to life, forming a triangle around him.

In the sudden glow, _her_ eyes, the Wolf's eyes, looked unholy.

"We prepared for you," she said, as though he were no more than a guest she was delighted to entertain. "I wasn't sure it was going to be you specifically, but I was hopeful. Now. Hand over your weapons, your bag and that beautiful cloak- which _I_ made, by the way."

Resentment burned him. Hatred turned his insides to ash.

But he was excellent at playing the game. He just had to remember to breathe instead of imploding.

He set his weapons on the ground- the bow and arrows, the rifle, _(breathe, breathe)_ the two knives, the machete. He slid his rucksack from his shoulder _(breathe, breathe)_ and handed over the cloak.

"What the fuck is on it?" she demanded.

"Various cleansing agents. I'm guessing from your ghoulish visage that you have never tried extracting walker blood from fabric," he replied coolly.

She spread her arms and grinned, a flash of teeth through her mask of rotting lips. "You guess correct," she said.

Still holding the cloak, she angled one hand behind her; a moment later, the dead skin sagged a bit.

"We sewed buttons on the backs," she explained, wriggling quickly and efficiently out of the putrescent hide. "It's a bit cutesy for me, but it works better than anything else we tried."

Freed of her grotesque leather, she gave him a look that was all wickedness and pitiless amusement. Her red hair was wild, matted with blood and dirt and leaves. The scars limning her face with etched with grime, and that map of burns...

The burns _he'd_ given her.

Her eyes glinted, noting his attention. "That _was_ a pretty cool trick, I have to admit. The fuck did you burn me with anyway?"

He offered a small, cruel smile in return. "That's classified."

"You're a funny dude, Eugene. By the way, you can call me Alpha... Although Mason will recognize me as-"

"Gina," he finished, eyeing her coldly. "Rest assured, I know who you are."

She raised an eyebrow. "So she knows, too?"

"She won't let herself believe it. She knows she was shot by the Wolf I burned, and the woman who seduced Rosita, but she will not believe that _you_ are all three without conclusive evidence."

Alpha snorted. "She always was terrific at denial... How is she, by the way?"

She said it so casually, donning his cloak like she had nothing to concern herself with, like she had nothing to burn for...

Rage seared his lungs. "I don't think you reserve any right to be informed of her condition."

She paused. "I reserve every right. She was in love with me before all this."

"You abused her. You held her hostage in that relationship. It was nothing more than Stockholm syndrome."

She punched him in the stomach, driving the breath from him. While he was bent double, she leaned closer and hissed, "I'd dial back on the presumption there, Chemist. You're nothing more than her weird little boy toy. _I_ was-"

"Husband," he grunted.

She blinked, going dangerously still. "What?"

"I'm her husband."

For a moment, the outrage on her face was truly something to behold, but he stared her down, unflinching. The others continued circling them, though the whispering had stopped. The only sound now came from the crackling campfires and the tireless groans of the dead.

Finally, Alpha shook her head and the menace disappeared. "My parents were married, too, and that didn't end so well. Marriage is just a glorified trapping from our former existence. Besides, she thought I was dead, right?"

Before he could respond, her eyes flicked to the side, her lips thinning, as if...

As if someone else were speaking.

It was the same tick, the same tell, that gave Mason away when she was hearing the voices.

His eyes narrowed. "Pain in the ass, aren't they?" he said.

She shook her head impatiently, glaring at him. "What?"

"The delusions. The voices."

The look that came over her then made her previous menace seem banal. He braced himself to parry another blow, refusing to shrink from the lightning in her vivid green eyes.

"The only voice I'm hearing," she murmured, "is the one telling me to kill you."

"So why haven't you?"

Her teeth flashed in a hiss. "Because I want her to see you _suffer_ first."

He shrugged, for all the world entirely unconcerned with his predicament. "Understandable, I _do_ get that a lot. I am not everyone's cup of tea, you see. My best friend tried to kill me, too."

While he talked, he silently cataloged everything going on around him.

The skin-walkers continued circling him, indistinguishable from the dead, but a few of them had broken away to crouch around him, rifling through his things, examining his weapons.

A few feet away, three of them were disassembling a bomb arrow, poking curiously through the propellant powder.

And Alpha stood within the radius of a campfire's warmth. Steadily drying the cloak.

His lips wanted to twitch with satisfaction, but he let nothing show on his face.

 _Keep talking. Keep her distracted._

He had not failed to notice that each and every one of them, walker and skin-walker alike, had W's inscribed on their foreheads. Just like the Wolves.

"Who are you?" he asked. "I mean, as a group."

"You can call us the Whisperers."

He stifled a shiver.

"Bit gimmicky, isn't it?"

Alpha narrowed her eyes. "I don't know, was it gimmicky when you and Mason haunted the Virginia countryside as vigilantes of the apocalypse?"

"That was your idea, too. Full disclosure, I don't see anything _wrong_ with gimmicks... However, I am of the opinion that-"

Abruptly, the cloak burst into flames.

Alpha screeched as she was ensconced in fire, squirming frantically to escape the blazing fabric.

The Whisperers halted their orbit, at long last allowing Eugene a glimpse at the demarcation between living and dead. The walkers outnumbered them, but there were still plenty of the living left to fight. Their numbers probably hovered somewhere around thirty.

He calculated this in the space of a heartbeat.

In the next, while everyone was distracted, he snatched the first lighter from his belt, locked the igniter, and tossed it toward the sundered bomb arrow.

He had just enough time to duck, covering his face, as the powder exploded. The Whisperers closest to it reeled back, screaming as their flesh seared.

Quick as a wink, Eugene snatched up his rifle and his rucksack and hung them both from his shoulder. Some of the Whisperers were already recovering from the shock and moving on him, some of them dragging Alpha to the side to pat down the flames. He didn't have time to grab everything, but that wasn't his mission. He wasn't going to be able to fight them all, at least not until he'd broken free of the circle. All he needed was to fight his way out.

The first punch he threw landed beautifully, knocking one of the Whisperers on their ass and tearing flesh- both their own and that of their dead suit. A second Whisperer lunged for him, fists raised. Eugene ducked, swinging his arm back, catching a third Whisperer in the throat with his elbow. Then he stepped forward, planting the right side of his body in front of the second Whisperer, who had no time to stop. In one smooth movement, Eugene sent the Whisperer sailing, flipping him to the ground.

His redirection techniques took the Whisperers off guard, as did the broken bits of metal and glass he'd tucked into the wrappings on his knuckles. He plowed through the circle of the living and into the walkers beyond, who had no time to react as he fought his way through them.

Suddenly he was free, half-blind as he returned to the dark. From behind came the sound of swift pursuit- the Whisperers he'd let live giving chase. So he raced east, away from the ocean, away from the beach house.

He had to lead them away.

His heart pounded as he zigzagged through the trees but his breathing was even, controlled. Bright beams cut through the woods, flashlights cracking open the night. He didn't bother trying to dodge them. He ran fast but not as fast he could.

At some point, one of the Whisperers caught up to him. He could feel them just mere feet behind him, practically stepping on his heels.

Keeping his pace, he grabbed the fifth of tequila he'd tucked into his belt, hidden beneath his shirt. His other hand snatched the second lighter. Mid-step, he whirled, smashing the bottle against the Whisperer's face. They snarled, blinded by blood and glass and liquor. Eugene flicked the lighter and tossed it and the Whisperer went up in flames.

In the same breath, he swung the rifle into his hands and took aim at a second Whisperer, who was closing in as well. They tried to duck, but too late. Eugene got them right between the eyes.

There came the sound of another gun firing. Something hot cut a path right past his head, grazing his cheek. A bullet missing its fatal mark by inches.

Hissing, he turned and ran. More gunfire peppered the night, but by some miracle none of the rounds landed, though several times he felt the sharp bite of splintered wood as a tree took the hit intended for him.

A few times, he tried to return the favor, though he was never certain how many of his shots hit their mark.

And then he was breaking free of the trees, right on the edge of a district of suburban housing. Far enough away from the beach that he felt confident in turning to face his pursuers.

But there was only one, feral and fire-eaten, every inch of her silhouette ridged with fury.

He took aim and fired, but she was quick, the knife she'd been holding already airborne. It sank into his hand and he dropped the gun.

Before he could recover, Alpha lunged for the gun. She almost had it, she was almost able to aim it at him-

He kicked it out of her grip and it skidded out of range. Pulling the knife from his hand, he grabbed her singed hair and stabbed at her throat.

Snarling, she lunged forward and the knife drove harmlessly through the air behind her. She grabbed the wrist of the hand tangled in her hair, digging her nail into a pressure point until he was forced to let go. Then she turned and bit his other arm.

He let out a shout. The knife tumbled from his fingers and she was quick to take advantage, snatching it up and slashing at his throat.

He jumped back, yanking up his sleeve and revealing the butterfly knife he'd taped to his arm. He had just enough time to rip it free before she was leaping at him. He stepped aside, barely able to parry her away.

They circled each other, jabbing and slashing and deflecting, until each of them was sweaty and crisscrossed with wounds. It was a stalemate for what felt like an eternity, each of them trying to reach the gun while simultaneously trying to keep the other from it.

She was quick. Smart. And he began to realize as they clashed that she was going to wear him down. But he couldn't land a killing blow, couldn't get close enough for that. And neither of them was getting to the gun until the other dropped.

Every breath felt like fire to his lungs. There was blood and sweat dewing on his eyelashes. His thoughts lashed his skull like lightning.

He moved abruptly, jarring their dueling pattern. Alpha paused as he darted back a few steps- just a heartbeat, but it was enough.

He threw his knife. She dodged it, just as he predicted she would, but in the few precious seconds she was distracted, he swung his rucksack into his hands and reached inside.

He pulled out the first thing his fingers touched- a roll of metal twine. There was no time for anything else. Alpha had already recovered and was surging toward him.

Twisting to the side, he unrolled a bit of the twine, and as Alpha was barreling past him he hooked it around her throat. She choked as he pulled it tight, the knife clattering from her hand in a sudden flinch of panic. She struggled, kicking her legs, clawing at the twine and then clawing at him when she couldn't break free.

He didn't yield an inch. His muscles strained as he jerked the noose tighter. Tighter. Her thrashing was growing weaker...

Something struck him over the head.

There was one brief heartbeat of pain before the world rushed away on a wave of black.

 **Mason**

She jarred awake suddenly enough to incite a stab of pain in her healing stomach.

"Eugene," she gasped breathlessly, reaching for him.

But he wasn't there.

Her hands tangled in the sheets, her pulse frantic in her fingers. His side of the bed was cold. He'd been gone awhile.

For just a heartbeat, she sat frozen in fear.

She'd dreamed, she'd dreamed such horrible things, and for the first time since the nightmares had begun, she remembered it.

She'd been on the beach, under white, ceaseless cloud cover, the ocean muted on her left. She'd been crouched before a grave marker, a salt-whitened, wooden cross. She'd been... _overwhelmed. Breathless_ with despair, with desperation, with something that was so far beyond desolation she had no name for it.

She'd dug her fingers into the sand and it had begun to bleed. Just little beads of it at first, standing out from the pale grit like rubies, like pomegranate seeds. But the deeper she probed, spading her fingers through the reddening silt, the blood sopped up around her, until she was splashing in it, until it was a grotesque tide pool.

Feverishly she'd kept digging, tears blinding her, calling Eugene's name over and over while a weight pressed in on her lungs.

Because he was down there. She'd known he was down there, trying to dig his way up, trying to _swim_ his way up from the ocean of blood lurking beneath the shore. Reaching for her just as she was reaching for him.

With every second that passed, breathing had become harder, as though _she_ were the one buried alive, but finally, _finally_ , a hand had shot from the earth, coated in blood and sand, and she had grabbed it, she had _pulled_ with all her strength...

And she'd woken up. Sweat-slick. Trembling.

And now he was gone.

She lurched out of bed, grabbing her gun and her fire poker. She was still wearing what she usually wore to sleep- one of Eugene's t-shirts and a pair of boxers. She didn't bother changing out of them, partly because she didn't want to waste a second, but also because the shirt smelled like him, and after her nightmare she _needed_ him, every single part of him- his smell and the feel of his skin and the sound of his voice. She was suddenly, heart-wrenchingly desperate for him.

She rushed out of the room, wincing slightly at the ache in her stomach. Her heart sank when she realized that some of the others were already up, but she barreled toward the door anyway, hoping to escape before-

Someone grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt.

"Hey, where the hell you goin'?"

She turned, wide-eyed, to find Daryl glaring at her. She tried to pull away but he held tight.

"Eugene's gone, I have to find him," she said, still breathless.

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"I mean he's fucking _gone_ , what the fuck else- just _let me go_!"

"Whoa, whoa, Mason, wait," Rick said, appearing at her side with Michonne, Carol and Morgan. "You've checked everywhere else?"

"I don't have time, I _know_ where he went," she insisted, and the way Rick looked at her, the worry in his eyes, told her he was in agreement.

"Alright, Mason, it's okay. Daryl and I will scout the woods," he said. "The rest of you check around the house, but keep close. We need-"

"I'm not staying here, I'm going with you," Mason said. Rick opened his mouth to protest but she swept on. "I am _not_ fucking staying here, if he's out there, _I'm_ out there."

Michonne shook her head in disbelief. "Mason, you were just _shot_."

"And I'm healing. Look, please- we don't have time to sit around and argue, we need to find him!"

In her mind she was still seeing the blood, still feeling Eugene's hand clutching desperately at hers. Her stomach filled with lead.

Daryl and Rick exchanged a glance. Mason ground her teeth.

"If you two leave without me, I'll just find a way out by myself," she snapped.

Rick sighed. "Alright. You, me and Daryl."

"And me," Morgan said. "We could split up in twos- cover more ground, see in more directions."

Michonne still looked dubious, but Carol nodded. "We'll look for him here, hold down the fort until you get back."

Rick nodded and smiled, pulling Michonne in for a quick kiss.

"We'll be back soon."

 **Eugene**

The world came back in bleary fragments. Little snippets of sound and imagery that it took him a bit of an effort to piece together.

The sun was coming up, just barely coloring the eastern horizon.

He was being dragged somewhere, his feet trailing and snagging in the undergrowth.

His hands were bound, stingingly tight, behind him with the same twine he had tried to strangle Alpha with.

Occasionally there were voices. One he recognized...Alpha. The other he didn't, but it was high and querulous and cracked with age.

His head throbbed, and there was blood, half-dried and sticky, trailing from his temple, down his chin to his neck.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up. He cried out as a sickening wave of agony spiraled down his spine from the head wound.

"Welcome back, Chemist," Alpha hissed.

"Alpha," he puffed by way of greeting.

"You're a surprisingly delightful fighter. Really thought you had me there for a second."

Her free hand ghosted to her throat, where a long cut was oozing blood, shadowed by bruises.

"You _would_ have, actually, if not for ol' Murph here," she continued, indicating a short, bushy-haired man who looked to be in his early seventies. The man regarded Eugene nervously, like he thought Eugene might attack.

Neither of them were the ones carrying him. Two Whisperers held him up by his arms, though they were the only ones in sight. It made him wonder how many of them he'd actually been able to take down.

As if she could read this in his face, Alpha said, "You took out twelve of my people. Single-handedly. I'd probably be more pissed if I weren't so damn impressed." Finally, thankfully, she let go of his hair.

"So where are the rest of them?" he asked.

"Wrangling the cold bodies. They scattered when you broke through the ring. By the way, those were some badass tricks you had up your sleeve. I'm still racking my brain trying to figure out how you set my cloak on fire."

"A proprietary mixture that ignites when it dries."

It was guncotton, actually- nitrocellulose left unwashed had a tendency to combust at room temperature.

Alpha peered at him, eyes gleaming.

"I'm really gonna have to watch my back with you, aren't I?"

"You are."

"I admire that. I admire you. Part of me wishes I could keep you alive." She gave him a grin, like they were old friends. "Perhaps as a pet?"

"Pets turn their teeth on their owners when they've reached their threshold of complacency. I am well past that threshold."

She laughed, a raspy sound, like striking matches. "You're fun. I like an even playing field."

While they talked, his head began to clear. It was a struggle; he had to dig every thought out of the mud. But after a moment he began to recognize where they were. Back in the woods, not far from the cliff side.

His stomach twisted, but he made his voice sound casual.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To the beach. You're going to act as a little calling card to Mason."

Not much of a shocker, although he couldn't quell a pinch of anxiety all the same. With any luck, however, Mason was still asleep. Likely no one was going to notice he was missing for a while yet.

He kept his eyes heavy-lidded, as though he were still muddled, while he analyzed his predicament.

The Whisperers carrying him had knives on their belts, but no firearms that he could see. His gun, however, was strapped across Alpha's back, and Murph held a pistol in a surprisingly steady hand.

He wouldn't have much time. The odds weren't terribly favorable. But it was his only chance. He would _not_ let himself be used as a weapon against Mason, to hurt her.

 _Sharp buttons and hella confidence,_ he thought before digging his feet into the earth, propelling himself backward into the Whisperers.

He could have knocked them down, but they would've taken him with them, giving Alpha and Murph time to aim their weapons.

Instead, he pushed back just enough so that he could crouch down, snatching one of the knives before un-looping his arms from his captors'.

Alpha and Murph had halted, already readying their guns, but Eugene whirled. And god, the movement made his head spin but he refused to collapse.

He wasn't able to see where he was aiming with the knife behind him, but he felt it sink into flesh. Murph yelped and dropped his gun and now, _now_ Eugene barreled backward with all his strength, driving the old man into Alpha.

All three of them crashed into a tree. Eugene sank briefly to the ground, the world tilting at a dangerous angle, his stomach churning sickly.

But the two Whisperers were converging on him. He had no time to wait for his equilibrium to return.

With one last desperate lurch, he dropped the knife and scrambled for the pistol. His heart was an unbearable jackhammer against his ribs. He had only precious seconds before Alpha and Murph recovered.

When the gun slid into his hands, a surge of hope electrified him. He could do this. He could escape, he could get back to his people and warn them-

Clumsily, he staggered to his feet and hurried away, pulling the trigger once, twice, three times. There was no way to aim properly with his hands bound, but he hoped that the errant shots would discourage any pursuit, or at least create some distance.

He didn't stop until he was almost to the cliff. The edge of the trees loomed, but he skidded to a halt, ducking behind a tree. Alpha had been taking him to the beach, so there was every possibility the rest of her Whisperers were already there. If they were, perhaps he could take a few more of them out. But he couldn't do that with his fucking hands bound.

One brief glimpse revealed no one hunting after him, but one brief glimpse was all he was allowed. Quickly he dropped the gun and sat on his hands, leaning forward so he could draw his knees up to his chest. It took quite a bit of graceless wriggling, and sharp pains alerted him to muscles he pulled in the process, but finally he was able to maneuver his feet behind his hands. Bracing himself against the tree, he stood, his hands now in front of him.

The effort left him breathless and dizzy; his head throbbed as he bent to retrieve the pistol.

Gunfire went off. He had barely enough time to hide behind the tree again, chips of wood exploding around him.

" _Come out and face me, you pussy_!" Alpha snarled. " _I'm gonna bleed you like a pig_!"

Eugene focused his breathing, honing his thoughts until they were blade-sharp.

Alpha behind him, with his rifle.

Movement to either side indicated that the other Whisperers had caught up as well and were closing in. Boxing him in.

One cartridge in the chamber of his pistol, three more in the magazine.

Alpha behind him.

The cliff ahead.

He breathed out, steadying his hand.

Then he turned, firing at the Whisperer on his right. They hit the ground a moment later, a fresh, new hole in their head.

He turned to aim his gun behind him, where Alpha was barreling forward. She ducked out of the way, allowing him a pocket of space to run.

The second Whisperer lunged, seizing the back of Eugene's shirt. He managed to pull free but the effort took the balance from him; he tumbled forward, landing roughly in the dirt just inches from the cliff.

Alpha began firing again. Eugene rolled, launching himself down the cliff face.

There was enough of a slope that it was't a straight ninety degrees, but it sure as hell felt like it when he hit the bottom.

"Fuck me with a crowbar," he gasped- one of the many delightful colloquialisms he'd picked up from Abraham. His head was spinning, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Every inch of him throbbed with pain and exhaustion.

But he couldn't stop. He had to keep moving, had to-

The breath caught in his throat.

Up ahead, not far from him, the ring of walkers and Whisperers rotated once more.

Except there were more them now.

There was no way to tell who was alive and who was undead, but the whole lot of them easily outnumbered his people.

" _No_ ," he whispered, frozen in horror.

Rocks clattered as Alpha skidded down the cliff. Eugene raised his gun, but he wasn't quick enough.

Alpha fired- a warning shot, he realized, as the bullet only nicked his shoulder.

"Drop it, you unbelievable, royal, _pain in my fucking ass_ ," she seethed.

He let go of the gun. Even in his rising despair, he felt a spark of satisfaction at the look on Alpha's face.

She snatched the gun and belted it, then grabbed the twine binding him.

"Come on."

 **Mason**

She and Daryl were deep in the woods when they heard the gunfire, multiple reports of it bursting the quiet of the morning.

Mason lurched to a halt. Fear made the world spin sickeningly.

" _No_ ," she whispered, reaching for her gun, turning... But she was moving in slow motion, she was moving through mud, goddamn it, she wasn't moving _fast enough_ -

"Hey. It's okay, it's okay." Daryl touched her briefly, steadying her, and it was only then that she realized she was swaying on her feet. Frantically, she met his gaze.

"Eugene. Eu-eugene-"

"Hey, I need to know you're good first. You won't be any help to him if you're fallin' over, and I ain't leavin' you here by yourself."

 _Breathe. Breathe._

She closed her eyes. Focused her breathing.

"I'm good." When she opened her eyes, Daryl still looked dubious. "Daryl, I'm good, I promise."

"Alright, c'mon."

They raced off in the direction of the noise. Mason nearly let out a scream when the gunshots came again, her heart thrumming a mile a minute, such painful staccato it was like gunfire in her own chest.

It was even more terrible when the gunshots stopped and didn't come again.

She pushed herself faster, ignoring the stabbing in her abdomen, the irritating tug of her stitches. Her breathing was labored from pain and panic. The memory of her nightmare dogged her every step.

Daryl picked up a trail not far from the cliff, branches broken and undergrowth frayed in obvious evidence of a chase. They followed it to the wood's end, right up to the edge of the cliff.

They halted when they saw the strange circle in the sand below.

"What the fuck is that?" Daryl growled.

Walkers, Mason realized. All of them shambling in a large loop, surrounding a lone figure.

Eugene.

Her heart leapt to see him alive, even as ice filled her stomach at the sight of him, hands bound and looking horribly ragged, in the center of a ring of the dead.

Before she or Daryl could move, one of the walkers stepped- deliberately, delicately- out of the dead circuit. It looked right up at them, cupping its hands around its mouth so it could shout.

"Come join us, Reaper! We've been waiting a very long time for you!"

That voice...

Mason's heart stopped.

No.

No, it wasn't...it wasn't-

"C'mon, Mason," it called again. "Come join your husband."

That got her legs moving. Mason led the way over the edge, sliding unceremoniously down the rocky slope. She scraped her legs up to hell in the process, and the impact of landing in the sand shot her abdomen through with pain. Panting, sweat breaking out on her forehead, she held her stomach and willed the pain to stop. Daryl wrapped an arm around her, glaring at the walker-human-thing as it laughed.

"Yeah, sorry about that," it said, and god, that voice, that _voice_ \- "Grand payouts demand hard decisions. A bit like what you'll be doing today."

Mason limped forward, leaning heavily on Daryl while she tried to get her breath back. She could only barely see Eugene within the ring, occasional glimpses of him staring out at her in anguish. Not for himself, she realized, but for her.

She swallowed convulsively. "What hard decisions?"

The thing didn't answer at first, but it stared at Mason with eyes that glittered like cruel emeralds.

Those striking green eyes...

Slowly, it reached a hand behind its back, unfastening what looked to be a crude button sewn in the back of its hide. It kept its eyes on her the whole time, as if it were savoring the denial, the horror, on Mason's face.

"I've missed you, little Reaper," it said, shimmying out of its skin. "You don't know how much I've missed you."

Mason shook her head, trembling, blood cold. "No," she whispered weakly. " _Stop_ -"

She couldn't see this, didn't want to-

But the woman peeled the last of the walker skin from her body, revealing a mane of singed, fire-red hair, a body that was ballerina-lithe, a face covered in burns, covered in scars-

A face Mason recognized.

Those lips- lips Mason had kissed, in a different world- stretched in a wide, wicked grin.

"Did you miss _me_?" that voice _(Gina it was Gina it was fucking Gina)_ asked.

Suddenly, voices started up within the walker crowd, which continued to rotate. They echoed _(Gina)_ the woman, whispering the question, layer upon layer of voices.

 _God, how many of them are human in there?_ Mason wondered, though mostly to distract herself.

"C'mon, Mason," the woman _(Gina no no it wasn't it couldn't be please)_ said, pouting. "Don't you have anything to say to me? All this time we haven't seen each other? Didn't you miss me?"

Mason was aware, only distantly, that she had sagged completely in Daryl's arms. That her knees were shaking, barely holding her up. That she wanted to wake up, she wanted to wake up, she was still dreaming, she had to be-

When the silence dragged, the woman's eyes flashed.

" _Speak_!"

And it was instinct, instinct buried so deep in Mason, instinct she thought she'd killed, that had her obeying.

"Gina," she gasped, and the last of her denial swept away with that single word, leaving her hollow and shivering.

Gina grinned. Triumphant, ruthless. " _Yes_ ," she hissed. "Hello, Mason."

The ring of walkers echoed her, limning Mason's bones with frost.

" _Hello, Mason. Hello, Mason. Hello, Mason._ "

"Mason."

A new voice. Comfortingly familiar, but...she couldn't find the strength to respond...

" _Mason_ ," Daryl tried again, and when she remained mute he threw Gina a vicious snarl. "You best tell us what you want, you fuckin' bitch."

Mason flinched, but Gina looked delighted by his rabid attitude.

"Right to the point, Daryl Dixon. I like it."

Out of the corner of Mason's eye, a flicker of movement...

She glanced up at the cliff, where two figures were creeping. The moment she saw Rick and Morgan she looked away again, unwilling to draw Gina's attention to them.

"I want to make an exchange," Gina continued. "Right now, the Whisperers are keeping these cold bodies at bay. See, if they think you're one of them, you can get them to do just about anything. We've mastered the art of keeping them docile. But if the ring were to break..."

She glanced back at Eugene in amusement. Through a gap in the dead circle, Mason saw pure hate on his face.

"I don't know how well it would fare for your hubby. All those wounds leaking blood... They'd be on him in seconds."

"Gina, please," Mason said, and it was a struggle to give any voice to her words. "Please don't do this."

"Oh, the name's Alpha now. _Way_ fucking better, if you ask me."

"Okay, then, A-alpha. Please. Let him go."

Alpha curled her lip. "Really? _Him_? I mean, okay, okay, granted- he is _very_ clever. A supreme fissure in my ass, if we're being real honest. But you...you're the _Reaper_. You brought the Sanctuary to its knees."

Up on the cliff, Rick and Morgan had gone still.

 _Keep her distracted keep her distracted_

"He _is_ clever," Mason said- pleaded. The only way she'd ever been able to communicate with Gina. "You can't- you can't destroy that. You can't let that go to waste."

"I'll admit, it would be a shame," Alpha said. "I admire that mind of his. But destroy him I will, if I don't get what I want."

She paused, a look crossing her face that instantly filled Mason with dread.

"I have an idea. Let's play a little game. To see if he's even worth all the trouble. I wouldn't want you to make sacrifices if he's not worthy of you."

She snapped her fingers, and the inner layer of the ring shifted- what Mason assumed were the Whisperers moving aside to let the walkers trail into the center. One after another, they shambled toward Eugene, gnashing their teeth as they scented his blood.

" _No_!" Mason cried. Through gaps in the ring, she could spot him, grim exhaustion shadowing his face, hair rumpled with sweat and blood, as he faced the onslaught. He was able to take a few down, but with his hands bound his options were limited, and his strength was failing him.

Mason lurched forward- just as the gunfire started up.

One of the walkers looming behind Eugene crumpled to the ground. Another followed suit, blood exploding from its head. Panting, Eugene stood still as a whole volley of bullets took down the walkers surrounding him.

Alpha snarled, whipping to face the cliff.

Suddenly everything was chaos.

The Whisperers were breaking rank. The few that had guns turned their attention on Rick and Morgan as well. Eugene was left undefended again.

Taking advantage of their only chance, Mason and Daryl rushed forward, fighting their way into the crowd.

It was like nothing she'd experienced before.

She'd aim at what she thought were walkers, only for them to dart out of the way, or swipe at her with knives, or punch her. And then while she was distracted with the living, the undead would cluster closer and she would have to worry about _them_. It was like being thrown into a lake, bracing to have to swim, only to crack her bones on rocks hidden beneath the surface.

But she pushed through the turmoil, toward Eugene, who was in the thickest of it, who was swiftly losing ground...

Her pulse became a wildfire. Everything smelled like death and there was blood misting the morning air and the feel of sand beneath her bare feet just reminded her of that damn nightmare and...

And they weren't going to make it to him.

He was fighting as hard as he could and they were fighting as hard as they could, but there were too many Whisperers. Mason's gun was empty by the time they were halfway through the fray and Eugene was surrounded and they _weren't going to make it_.

She screamed, a feral, desperate sound, half-choked with tears. She screamed as she raged forward, swinging her fire poker, not giving a shit who was living or dead, not giving a shit if they bit her or shot her or stabbed her.

And it made no difference. She was not going to reach him.

In her mind, she saw that cross.

She felt the blood, thick and hot, on her skin.

She saw Rick-

Rick.

 _Rick._ Not in her mind, but in front of her, across from her.

He had fought his way in from another angle, had somehow cut a path straight through to Eugene. Morgan was still some distance away- holding off Alpha and a few others. The sight of them put new strength in Mason's legs.

Rick reached Eugene, pulling him from the pocket of walkers trying to swallow him. He had no time to unravel the wire binding Eugene's wrists, but he did hand him a knife. Together they stood back to back, holding the convergence at bay by inches.

And finally, goddamn _finally_ , Mason reached them, reached Eugene. She wanted to hold him, press him to her chest and protect him from everything, but instead she reached for his bindings, hastily undoing them while Daryl watched her back.

When he was free, the four of them stood shoulder to shoulder in the chaos, a defiant spark flaring against the ever-pressing circle. And her stomach was _burning_ , she thought perhaps she'd torn her stitches, but she didn't waste a second to check.

And then...and then, suddenly, the Whisperers began to retreat.

Retreat from the Misfits and their gunfire as they charged down the beach.

The relief that seized her then...it took the breath from her.

While the Misfits drove the Whisperers back, Morgan joined the nucleus that Mason, Eugene, Rick, Daryl made up. The five of them set to work dispatching the walkers, who were much less of a threat without Alpha's ghoulish warriors haunting their ranks. Mason kept her mind carefully focused on the task. She didn't let it wander, because if it wandered-

 _Hello, Mason._

 _You don't know how much I've missed you._

No. No, she couldn't think about that. Not yet.

Only when there were a handful of walkers left did she at last stagger to a halt, glancing down to find red staining her shirt.

"Mason," Rick said, but she waved off his concern.

"Just tore my stitches a little bit. It's no biggie."

"You should head back. You and Eugene both. Denise needs to take a look at you."

"What, and miss one second of this super awesome day?" The cheer in her voice was manic, and yet she felt strangely numb, weightless and heavy all at once.

Rick's eyes softened, and he laid a hand on her shoulder, opening his mouth to say something.

A heartbeat later, he was swinging her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. Shielding her body with his own. It happened so quickly her mind reeled.

In the same moment there was a crack of artillery, one lone report followed by a cascade of retaliatory fire.

Blood splashed the right side of her face.

Rick shuddered, letting out a low, strangled noise.

In a haze, in a dream, she looked up.

"Rick?"

There was so much blood, she couldn't believe it at first.

In the back of her mind, she heard Eugene's voice, teaching her interrogation techniques, how quickly someone could bleed out from a severed artery.

 _There are several vital thoroughfares that allow for treatment, so long as it comes promptly. But you're in trouble if you sever the carotid artery._

The carotid artery. The one in the throat.

Where Rick was bleeding from now.

All this passed through her head in a fraction of a second. Already Rick's arms had gone slack around her, his face pale. He stumbled back. She tried to grab him as he collapsed, to ease his fall.

"No, no, _Rick_!"

Panic flooded her as she pressed her hands to the wound. Impossible, this was impossible, it couldn't be happening-

"Stay with me, Rick, stay with me. I've got you, okay?"

But her hands were swimming in his blood.

Too much. He was losing too much. Even if she were to wrap the wound, he'd just bleed right through it-

Tears blurred her vision.

"Rick, please," she sobbed. "Stay- stay with me, okay? Stay with me."

He blinked at her. His mouth moved but no words came out. Just a gurgling rasp and a gush of blood.

But his hands found one of hers, pulling it away from the wound. Wrapping something in her red, slick fingers.

His revolver.

And she remembered their conversation in the desert. Joking with each other at the Oasis, blissfully unaware that this day awaited them. Joking about...about Mason taking over Rick's role as leader, joking about him giving her his revolver-

She dropped it, returning her hand to his neck.

" _No_ ," she said furiously. "No, don't you fucking dare. Don't you _fucking_ leave me. Don't- _don't_ \- "

But she couldn't fight the sobs any longer. They crushed her.

" _D_ _on't leave me, please, don't leave me._ "

She bowed her head, pressing it to his chest. She kept her hands stubbornly, uselessly, pressed to the wound.

Beneath her temple, his heartbeat slowed. Stopped.

She stayed crouched over his body for an eternity, crying so hard it felt like convulsing, only barely aware of it when Eugene wrapped his arms around her. Holding her while the world fell down around them.

 **Eugene**

He couldn't bear the sight of Michonne and Carl, huddled over Rick's body.

He couldn't bear the thought of Judith, still at the house, and how she would react when they explained what happened...

Most of all, he couldn't bear the sight of Mason, crouched in the sand next to Rick, staring at his body with dull, empty eyes.

She'd screamed and thrashed when he'd tried to pull her away to get her wound tended, enough that he'd worried she would tear her stitches further. So he'd let her be, limp and terrifyingly hollow.

Everything. Everything was horribly, terrifyingly hollow.

Rick was _dead._

Rick

was

dead.

It was near impossible for Eugene to accept that this all wasn't some kind of fucked up, hyper-realistic nightmare.

He looked dazedly at Renee as she strode toward him. There was a familiar steel in her eyes, the look she got when she had patients to tend to, but beneath it...

She was as lost as the rest of them.

"I fixed her stitches, but she needs antibiotics. She needs _rest_ ," she said. "It would be way too easy for her to get an infection right now, but she won't let me move her."

"She's in shock," Eugene said numbly. His voice was someone else's.

"Yeah, I know that. She could also go into _septic_ shock if that wound gets infected. And _you_. _You_ need to get looked at, too. You're dead on your feet and riddled with wounds. You look like a goddamn cutting board."

Eugene closed his eyes, trembling. Everything was crashing around him in slow motion and he could barely breathe, but...but...

Carl was sobbing in Michonne's arms and Michonne looked vacant, she looked dead, and Mason...

Mason needed him.

He breathed in through his nose, spooling himself back into his body. They all had jobs to do.

Mason didn't look up as he approached her. She didn't respond when he said her name, softly, gently.

But she resisted, muscles hard under his fingertips, when he tried to pull her away.

"May. Sweetheart."

He pressed his forehead to her temple, brushing her cheek with his nose. She wouldn't move out of concern for her own well-being, so he'd have to get her up another way.

"I'm sorry, love, but we...we need to get ready."

Slowly, slowly, her eyes slid to his.

"Ready," she rasped brokenly. It was not a question, but he answered anyway.

"To fight them," he murmured.

He expected the fire, to see the Reaper reawaken in her eyes.

But there was only void as she nodded, clutching his arms to let him pull her to her feet.

She leaned on him as they walked away, picking their way through the corpses that they hadn't had a chance to clear yet.

But she paused, a rush of sudden strength ridging her spine. She turned to the Misfits, eyes smoldering.

"Who?" she growled. Only that, but no one needed further explanation.

Dave fidgeted uneasily. "Alpha," he answered.

A tremor ran through her. She closed her eyes, nodding, and just like that, the strength drained from her. Eugene tightened his grip around her waist as they continued on their way.

They were halfway to the house when Mason staggered, lurching toward the sea.

"May-"

"I want...I want to clean myself off, I can't...I can't have his blood on me. I can't let Judy see me..."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"Okay. Okay."

He led her to the water's edge, the tide gently lapping at their feet and then pulling away. Kissing, then pulling away. The sound of it was soft. It was the sound from another world, the peaceful world they'd been kidding themselves for two years they were living in.

Eugene knelt, guiding Mason down with him. She sat quietly, letting him wash the blood from her skin, her eyes vacant as she stared across the ocean. He wished he had something to say, anything. But he was fighting to keep from collapsing under his own grief and besides, what _was_ there to say?

"She killed him."

Her voice was desolate as a tomb. She didn't look at him when she said it, entranced by that distant horizon, as if she wanted to disappear into it.

"She's alive," she said. Slowly. "She's alive and she _killed_ him."

Her breathing hitched.

"Rick...he's-"

She crumpled then like a wasted flower, crying weakly as though she had no spirit left for anything else. The pitiful sound of it broke something inside of him.

He pulled her closer, wrapping her up as though he could shield her from the world. And he could no longer fight it. He clenched his teeth against the sobs but they shuddered free anyway.

He and Mason clung to each other like they were the only port in a storm. They washed each other in the salt of their tears, and the tide washed them in the salt of its eternal movement, and they held each other tight in this merciless collapse of the world.

NOTE: ...is everyone okay? I'm kind of joking, but kind of not lol Guys, I really, really love Rick, he's one of my all-time favorites, but... Even in the show, I never saw him lasting till the end (which is why I was so upset they killed off Carl because I thought they would set him up to be the next leader after Rick died but we won't get into that). Just...he's that kind of protective dad figure who would _absolutely_ sacrifice himself for his loved ones, and I always saw him going out, you know, protecting them. Also...you didn't think the reunion with Alpha and Mason was going to come without its price, right? Even so, that was really, _really_ hard to write. I hope ya'll can forgive me. As always, much love, you guys.


	27. Windows

Hello, guys, I'm finally back with another chapter! Well I guess it wasn't that long, but it felt like it took forever because _finally_ everything is piecing together, and I'm so, so excited for what I have in store but actually trying to keep it all straight sometimes makes my mind feel like jelly lol. Anyway! This chapter is special because it's the title chapter (the final title chapter, guys, holy hell). The chapter song is, of course, "Windows" by AWOLNATION, and it is the perfect song for the climax of this story. Also, I guess maybe this would be a good time to mention- this story is going to be a tad longer than the other two, I think after this we have about eight chapters left. (Holy shit) Um, but anyway lol thanks SO MUCH for your reviews and support, I know that last chapter was a hard one... And we aren't out of the woods yet; obviously Alpha isn't done being a bitch lol But seriously thanks for sticking with me so far, I hope you guys enjoy this one. Please let me know what you think!

27\. Windows

 **Alpha**

She clutched at her arms, drawing lines down her skin with her nails.

Everything

everything was seething

she felt like

like a flame, guttering, building, guttering, building

aimless in intent.

The way Mason looked at Eugene...

the way she called his name, like he _mattered_ , like she truly did _love_ him-

And Alpha had not been able to stand it.

She'd been so enraged by it, so _unhinged_ by it, she had not been in control of her own body.

She'd aimed wildly, not caring that she'd ended up pointing the gun at Mason. In that moment, that eternal heartbeat of betrayal and jealousy and bloodlust, she would have been just fine killing Mason.

But she'd hit the sheriff instead, the man named Rick, the leader, and the devastation on Mason's face had almost made up for everything.

And she wanted to see it again, she wanted it, she wanted it, she wanted Mason to _pay_ for loving someone else, for loving Eugene and the rest of that goddamn family as if Alpha had never existed.

And once Mason had suffered enough, once she was beaten and broken enough to _see_ again, see the _truth_ \- Then she would remember.

Everything she and Alpha had once been. Everything they could be again and more.

Yes. Her suffering would be slow and thorough.

And then she would be Alpha's. Body and soul.

 **Mason**

 _mason_

Flashes of green. Insect song.

 _Mason_

Summer-sweet humidity. Honeysuckle. Arugula.

 _"Mason..."_

Someone...someone was saying her name, but she was too busy listening to the wind play with the chain link, the curious absence of the dead...

"Mason."

Her eyes jolted open. The cloying dream dissipated and she realized that she was sitting on the couch, slumped against Eugene, her stomach aching but not as painfully as before.

She'd fallen asleep. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She blinked at Eugene, whose eyes were soft with sympathy and grief, and she remembered. She remembered where she was, what had happened.

She was not in Georgia. She was not at the prison.

She was at the beach house, and Rick was dead.

Immediately her own grief had her curling in on herself, holding her arms around her middle like she was half-afraid it might spill out of her. Every breath hurt, like the world was steadily pressing in on her, eager to crush her.

A part of her was eager to let it.

When she remained silent, Eugene murmured, "Carl and Michonne took Judy to...to Rick."

The news startled her. "Do they...is that..." She couldn't finish, but...

He'd been covered in blood when she'd left him. So, so pale.

Gone.

"They...cleaned him up a bit beforehand," Eugene explained. Every word dragged out of him like thorns. "She wanted to see him. She didn't believe..."

Here his voice failed him completely, and he had to stop and clear his throat before he could continue.

"She didn't believe he wasn't coming back."

Mason flinched.

She couldn't believe that, either. Didn't want to.

Already she was tired again, exhausted. The kind of exhausted that demanded sleep, but was never sated. She didn't want to know things right now. Didn't want to think. She felt small, a wisp of breath and pulse and void.

But Eugene squeezed her gently. Said, "The others...some of the others want to talk. About preparations."

Talk with who? Their leader was dead.

 _...mason..._

That voice again, but faint, muffled. Like speaking through water.

She shivered from it.

She didn't

want

to think.

She wanted black, dreamless sleep.

It took her a moment to realize that Eugene was watching her, his eyes shadowed with concern, and even longer to realize it was because he was waiting for her to respond. And she tried, she honestly did. But the effort it took just to think of anything to say...

"Preparations," she finally repeated. Too dull to be a question.

"Yes, to...to fight."

Fight. Yes. It would come to a fight. But here, stranded in her agony, a fight seemed far away. She didn't have strength for it.

Except- except-

He had given her his revolver.

He had pressed that gun to her hand and she still felt its weight, just like she still felt the blood, and the slowing of his heartbeat...

"My...my stomach hurts," she rasped suddenly. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, the ridge of stitches beneath her shirt, to rid her fingers of the memory.

"I'll get you some painkillers," Eugene said and she nodded distantly.

A moment later, he was handing her the pills and she realized she hadn't even noticed him leave. She'd just...blanked.

 _Come back into yourself,_ a tiny part of her urged. But that part of her was bright, and fierce, and _aware_ , and she couldn't handle that right now.

She swallowed the pills dry, only noticing a moment later the water Eugene held out to her, and the utter helplessness on his face. Like she had fallen off a cliff and he was too far away to do a damn thing about it.

 **Eugene**

Mason nodded off again a while later, burying her face in his rib cage, her arms still wrapped around her torso. He debated carrying her to bed, but the others wanted to talk, and she needed to be present for it.

Only...only he was beginning to suspect that even if she joined them physically, she would not be there mentally.

He had waited, hoping to see that spark, any evidence at all of that fire she bore so brightly. Nothing. No heat, no vengeful hearth in her eyes. None of the icy, glittering rage from their exodus out of Virginia, either. It was like everything had been scooped out of her. A grave waiting for its dead.

"How is she?" a small voice asked and Eugene glanced up to see Ashlee perch herself on the edge of the couch. She wrapped a bit of hair around her finger as she examined Mason, purple and blonde coiling together like a strand of DNA.

Eugene sighed. "Unchanged."

"That woman. Alpha. She was really... I mean, her and Mason were really together before all this?" Ashlee whispered this wide-eyed, as though in disbelief of the origin story of two arch nemeses. Eugene supposed it wasn't too far off the mark.

"Yes," he said hesitantly, unsure of how much Mason would want revealed.

"Was she crazy back then, too?"

Eugene thought of all Mason had confided in him, the things Alpha had forced her to do, manipulated her into. Every moment of the on-and-off warfare they'd called love, every time Mason had _bled_ for Alpha, metaphorically and literally...

Because that was who Mason was. She bled for the people she loved. And Alpha, that conniving, psychotic _bitch,_ she'd been well aware of that fact, had been all too eager to exploit it-

Rage made his veins feel molten. "Yes," he said, stiff-jawed. "I believe she was the worst kind, and that she has been allowed to thrive in the apocalypse."

Ashlee nodded, chewing a bit now on that strand of hair. "My mom and dad, um, they always did this thing, you know, where they would use me and Tan to get back at each other? After the divorce, you know? We bought into it for a while cuz we were kids but Tan caught on way before I did. He tried telling me. But he was so angry. All the time, you know, it was hard even talking to him. When I finally figured it out- or I guess, stopped pretending- I felt really, um...useless? Like actually useless, you know, I didn't know what to do with myself."

She paused, looking shyly at her black-painted nails. "I'd like to think I've come a long way and that I wouldn't buy into my parents' crap. But if my mom were to walk into this room right now, crying about how I love my dad more than her, I think it would be a slap to the face. Even though I know it's bullshit, you know? When you grow up with abuse, you...you don't get rid of that part of you, you just learn to live around it. Do you...do you get what I'm trying to say?"

He had never told Ashlee or any of the Misfits about his mother. He had never told anyone aside from Mason and Denise- not about the hospital visits or the beatings, how _humiliated_ he had felt, how worthless and weak and scared. Not about the voice that grew inside his head, eating up every other thought like parasitic ivy, or how long it had taken him- nearly his whole life- just to learn how to keep it in check.

He had never told her, but the way Ashlee looked at him then, he thought she knew. He thought he knew, too, what she was trying to say. He'd been thinking it for a while himself, but having someone else think the same filled him with a heavy winter.

He liked to think that he'd come a long way, too, and that his mother could no longer affect him. But that just wasn't the truth.

No, he knew the truth. That if his mother marched through the front door right now, calling him a freak, a waste, he may very well be able to tell her to fuck off, to scream at her all the things he'd been too terrified to as a kid. But that even if he did, it would take everything. That for weeks after, he would likely look in the mirror and hate himself all over again. That he would have to fight just to keep himself from regressing to that place of fear, of shame, he'd lived in for so, so long.

He glanced at Mason, curled up tight against him. He thought of the look on her face when she'd finally laid eyes on Alpha, like all her demons resurrected at once, and yes, he knew, goddamn if he didn't.

Rick's death had gutted her. That was her _father_ , her real father, more real than blood could ever make him. After so many years, she'd finally found him and now he was dead, she had _watched_ him die, and Eugene knew how terribly she was going to agonize over that.

But that wasn't everything. It was even worse than that.

"Yes," he growled. "I understand."

Ashlee nodded. "Do you think...do you think she does?"

"Deep down, I'm sure. But she lies to herself so efficiently-"

He broke off as the front door opened. Sasha, Gabriel, Sherry and Tara trailed in, all of them looking grim and tired. The four of them had been keeping watch on the roof, while another regimen- Charlie, Dray, and Enid- patrolled the outside of the house. Daryl, Tanner, Jesus, Rosita, and Renee had gone with Michonne, Carl and Judy. To keep watch while they mourned.

And Eugene. Eugene had delegated all this, shorn them all into groups, given them jobs to distract them with efficiency, or perhaps just the illusion of it. Because Mason wasn't present. She was far, far away, and they _needed_ her but he didn't know how to bring her back.

"There's nothing out there," Tara reported before adding darkly, "At least, as far as we could see."

"They'll come back," Sherry said. "I think we all know that."

"We will be ready for them," Eugene said, stifling a weary sigh.

"I think it's time we discussed _how_ exactly we'll be ready for them," Sasha said, glancing meaningfully at Mason.

Eugene bristled defensively. "She's not feeling well," he said. "We can begin our discussion and fill her in later. She needs rest."

"We all do," Sasha said. Her words might have been more pointed, but the sorrow in her eyes softened them.

"Either way, we'll have to fill the others in, too, so we may as well start hacking at this now," Eugene said. "We should, however, bring in the perimeter group. Ashlee, Dave and Heath can relieve them. Also...Carol, Maggie, Morgan and Denise- they should be a part of this meeting, too."

They had been the first group to keep watch on the roof; Eugene had sent them to sleep off their exhaustion a few hours ago.

Ashlee nodded, hopping up from the couch while Sasha stepped outside to fetch the other three. "Yeah, of course," she said, still chewing on that strand of hair. "I'll wake them up and then I'll grab Dave and Heath."

"Coolioz," Eugene replied. Dull. Exhausted.

Once everyone available was gathered, he paused a moment to take in their faces. The atmosphere of the room dragged him down; every single one of them looked as lost and broken as he felt. Mason twitched in her sleep, as though she could see them, too.

After a moment, Tara spoke up. "Well. Any ideas?"

"Eugene?" Charlie said, startling him.

"Eugene what...?" he responded.

"You're the strategist. What's our next move?"

Everyone looked at him then. He fidgeted, thoroughly uncomfortable.

"I brought us all together so that we could discuss it as a group," he said. "I haven't...had a chance to plan anything on my own."

Not entirely true, he just couldn't stand the way they were looking at him. Like they expected him to know what was happening next.

"They're coming back for us, for Mason," Carol said, her voice like flint. "They've been spying on us for who knows how long, so they know who we are and how many of us there are. The only edge we'll have is if we take the fight to them."

"That's not necessarily true," Gabriel spoke up. "Didn't you guys say they didn't have a lot of guns? And that they panicked when the Misfits showed up? They weren't expecting us to have so much firepower."

"Or it could have just been strategy," Sherry countered. "Maybe they didn't want to waste their own ammo. Their plan went south pretty quick when Rick-"

Everyone flinched.

"When the shoot-out started," she amended. "Maybe they didn't think they'd _need_ that many guns."

Charlie snorted. "Bullshit. You have guns, you bring guns, end of story."

Sherry's eyes glinted. "So that's what you do, huh? Load yourself down with a whole goddamn arsenal every time you leave the house? If they required stealth or mobility, do you really think-"

"Except they _didn't_. This was a show of power, it was a _demonstration_."

"She's right," Carol said.

"Wait, but... From what everyone says, _everything_ Alpha does is a demonstration," Denise said. "It's classic narcissism."

"Well, why don't you run out and give her a therapy session?" Charlie snapped.

" _Hey,_ " Tara growled. "She has a point. We need to know _how_ she operates. The kind of person she is determines how she's gonna go about doing things."

"She's a crazy bitch, what else matters?" Enid said. "We have more guns. We should go to them."

"And if they do turn out to have more guns than us?" Morgan replied. "What then?"

"They _don't_ ," Carol said.

In a matter of seconds, the whole group dissolved into chaos, sniping and snarling at each other, filling the room with a cacophony of arguments that ran round in circle after circle. It was a testament to the Demerol, how effectively it put Mason out, that the noise didn't wake her.

Eugene knew it was partly emotional; they were all incredibly raw after everything that had happened, and they were terrified, and he _knew_ that. But he also couldn't help thinking that if Rick were here, he could have cooled everybody off. That if Mason were awake and feeling herself, she could have played an effective referee.

But Rick wasn't there. Mason wasn't herself.

The others continued arguing, growing more and more heated, refusing to back down-

They needed a leader, even if it was just a substitute-

Charlie and Maggie were shouting at each other now, everyone still so caught up on the gun situation-

Eugene snapped.

" _Enough_!" he thundered, loud enough that some of them jumped. Everyone looked at him, and he hated it, he didn't understand how Mason did this, but-

"Guns are only one aspect of this," he growled. "Alpha is clever, and ruthless, and whether she has guns or she doesn't, she will use _anything_ at her disposal to get what she wants. I agree that we cannot sit idle while that bitch breathes. I am _also_ of the opinion that we cannot devolve into quarrelsome twits just because we have suffered at the hands of the shittiest of shit days. Michonne, Carl, Judith-"

He paused to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"They need us to be strong now. Ya'll know that already- _r_ _emember_ it. We are _not_ ravening wolves, we are _family_. So everyone, get in your right damn minds and act like it."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and he could almost physically feel them backing down, struggling to tame their tension.

Finally, Maggie said, "He's right. We may as well be servin' ourselves up on a silver platter if we start fightin' now."

Charlie pursed her lips and fell silent; when clashing was no longer prudent, her true introverted nature took over without fail. Dray, the only one who had attempted to diffuse the situation instead of inciting it, threw Eugene a proud, supportive glance, before wrapping an arm around Charlie.

Only then did Eugene realize that his hands were trembling. He pulled Mason closer to steady himself.

"Anticipating anything that Alpha has in store for us is going to be a regular Russian roulette game," he said. "She is dangerously unstable, which we _could_ reroute in our favor, but that means that we cannot have one strategem. We need several, we need everything we can think of."

"Like the Sanctuary," Charlie said quietly.

"That is correct. So say she comes for us first- give me a list of everything that could go wrong."

 **Mason**

Peach blossoms, deliriously sweet. She'd missed that smell.

 _mason_

She breathed deep, keeping her eyes closed. Everything was blissfully warm. She was swimming in a haze of humid heat.

 _Mason_

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, concentrating on the sound of the breeze through summer leaves, the soft, occasional clink of chain link as it rippled...

" _Mason_. You can't ignore me forever."

"I could if you'd stop talking."

He laughed. The sound made her want to cry.

"C'mon, Mrs. Porter. It's time."

She wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. Or...maybe she was. Deep, deep in her chest, deep in the reluctant throb of her heart.

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I'm not ready."

"I know, sweetheart. But it's time all the same."

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Everything was so beautiful. Unbelievable. She was back in Georgia, back at the prison, but it was...magnificent. It took her breath away.

Across from her stood the outer fence, and Rick on the other side, smiling at her.

And behind him, in the yard...everyone. All the spirits, laughing and talking and going about business as if this were really life. They were so goddamn _beautiful_ , like stars, like oceans, like sunsets.

Mason ached.

She wanted to be there. She wanted to be with them.

Unconsciously she stepped forward, hands outstretched.

It jolted her when they met with chain link. She didn't know what exactly she'd been expecting, just that her blood, her bones, her _soul_ longed for that other side, enough that maybe she could have melted right through the fence...

Rick's smile turned sad. He placed his own hands on the fence, right against hers. His fingers twined with hers through the chain link.

She let out a soft, broken sound.

"I'm _sorry_ ," she whispered, her lips salty with tears. "All of this...it's my fault."

"No, it's not."

"Gina came here because of me. She- she _killed_ you, she used Rosita as walker bait, she brought the Wolves... She's been hunting me this whole fucking time, how can you say it's not my fault?"

"Mason." Rick squeezed her hands, as much as he could through the fence. "You have to find a way out of the guilt. You have to, or it's going to destroy you."

"So let it." She pulled away, even though it killed her to do so. "I deserve that much."

Rick frowned sternly. "That's her talking."

 _"Please, Gina. I'm sorry. I can do better."_

Mason flinched.

" _I can make you better."_

The scar on her thigh, the deepest of all of them-

"You're right, Rick," she said, backing away. "It is time."

Rick watched her go but she couldn't bear to look at him anymore. It cut a hole in her stomach more painful than any bullet.

She wandered away from the prison, into the forest she'd spent so much time in. But with every step...her unease grew. When had everything gone silent? The birds, the bugs, even the breeze... All sound had died away.

So she heard it, very distinctly, when the whisper came.

" _Hello, Mason_..."

Every nerve in her body froze over. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. She paused in the middle of a forest which had suddenly gone dark, shadows encroaching in swarms like an infinity of flies, bringing with them the stench of death...

 _You are the Reaper. You_ are _shadows. You are Death._

The voice did not belong to the Whisperer, to Gina. It wasn't the voice of any of the spirits either. The voice was small and soft and full of fire, and came from somewhere Mason had not known existed within herself.

It was her _own_ voice, she realized with a jolt. Her own flickering call through the void.

Straightening her spine, she moved forward, pretending she wasn't afraid. She had been here before, in another nightmare, a nightmare she'd almost forgotten about.

Up ahead, the puddle of blood was waiting, next to the old car where Mason and Gina had been separated. There was no rain this time. Everything was still. But the voice came again, Gina's voice, a maleficent hiss in the dark.

" _Come closer, Reaper. I have something to show you._ "

 _I am the Reaper. I am the Reaper._

Mason stepped forward until she could kneel at the edge of the puddle. Looking down, she expected to see herself reflected. But the face that stared out at her from the pool of deepest red was Gina's, a wide, wicked grin exposing all her teeth.

" _Listen closely, Reaper. Do you hear them?_ "

Suddenly, she could, she could hear...screaming. Wailing. Voices she recognized with an agonized lurch of her heart.

Her family.

Mason opened her mouth to call to them, but hands shot up out of the puddle, splashing blood into the air. They grabbed Mason by the front of her shirt, and she braced her own hands on either side of the puddle, trying to hold herself up, trying to jerk away.

But the ground beneath her fingers dissolved into red, thick and sickeningly warm, and she was sinking, she was being sucked under-

" _Come see, Reaper. Come see your solstice._ "

With one final tug, Gina dragged Mason into the gruesome pool, and for one heartbeat, one eternity, there was nothing but a sea of blood, nothing but a whirl of sinister red. The screams of her family grew louder and louder, reaching fever pitch as she struggled fruitlessly against the scarlet waves, and then they just-

Stopped.

And her heart might have stopped with them in that moment, the silence more horrible than the wailing had been, and then-

She was lurching up, out of that sea of red, out of the very grave she'd been dreaming of for so long. She gasped for breath, spitting out blood and sand, eyes flickering wildly as she took in the beach, searching for her family. But they weren't there, there was only a pack of walkers...

Only a pack of walkers.

She stared in horror.

 _No._

But there they were, her family, and they were dead but still moving, they were gnashing their teeth and groaning for flesh-

Somewhere, Gina laughed.

" _You're the Reaper, aren't you_ _? This is the only family you deserve._ "

As she spoke, the walkers turned their rotting eyes on Mason, and she didn't want to see them but she couldn't look away. There was Michonne, and Rosita, and Tanner, and Morgan, Carl, Renee, Daryl, all of them, all of them-

Eugene.

She screamed in anguish, doubling over-

And jarred awake, heaving for breath, slick with what it took her a moment to realize was sweat and not blood.

She was back in her room. Eugene must have carried her to bed at some point, though she couldn't remember it, couldn't remember much outside of a haze of disjointed moments.

 _C'mon, Mrs. Porter. It's time._

She had been asleep. Even with her eyes open, she had been asleep, from the moment she'd seen the life drain from Rick's eyes. This whole time, she'd been no better than a walker. Useless to her family when they needed her most.

 _I can make you better._

 _This is the only family you deserve._

Abruptly she was lurching out of bed, groggy and nauseous from the Demerol, and filling up quickly with a mire of rage.

She couldn't stomach her own selfishness. Disappearing into her own self-torment when her family was just as wounded. Sleeping and grieving like she was the only one entitled to it, when she could have been _doing_ something to protect them-

She didn't let herself think of what she was about to do, at least not thoroughly. In any case, her brain was still too muddled to really latch onto any particular thought for more than a few seconds, which she supposed was a good thing. Better not to think...

"What the hell are you doing?"

Mason froze in the middle of packing her rucksack, looking up to see Eugene in the doorway, watching her with those dangerous, intelligent eyes.

Not rotten. Not dead. She would not allow that.

"I'm going," she said.

"I think the fuck you're _not_."

She bristled at his tone, which left no room for argument.

"Why not? _You_ ran out there with nothing but a chemistry set and a yeehaw attitude-"

" _And she almost killed me_."

Suddenly they were both shouting, eyes flashing.

"So it's alright for you to almost die, but not me?" Mason snapped.

Eugene's lips were thin with anger. "You _did_ almost die, Mason. Twice."

"Yeah, and you remember who took the fall for me that second time, don't you?"

"Mason-"

" _I don't want people taking bullets for me_!"

" _Running out and asking for a bullet isn't the fucking solution_!"

Mason clenched her fists, gauging her chances of slipping past him and escaping without anyone following her.

But Eugene's eyes missed nothing. He closed the door behind him and planted himself in front of it.

She seethed. "I'm not asking for a bullet, I'm asking for a chance to protect you all," she said. "I'm giving myself to her."

"That is not an option."

" _Eugene_ , she wants _me_. This is all because of _me_. So get the fuck out of my way before someone else dies-"

She tried to push past him but he grabbed her arm. Snarling, she shoved him, but he glared at her, unaffected by the fury in her expression.

"Do you really think she'll be satisfied with that?" he said. "You think that's all she wants? You're smarter than that, Mrs. Porter."

" _Get out of my way-_ "

"She wants you to suffer first, Mason. She knows the most effective way to hurt you is to hurt us. You will not end this war by surrendering yourself, you will only prolong the pain."

Shrieking in frustration, she started struggling in his grip, rough with panic and anger. If she didn't get past him, if she didn't give herself up, Gina would kill and torture and maim until there was no one left, and she _couldn't let that happen_ -

But Eugene held his ground, redirecting her blows until he could snatch her wrists, pushing her back so that they both collapsed on the bed. He had her then, pinned beneath him. There was no breaking loose until he released her.

She shook her head, tears running down her face.

" _Fuck you, Eugene_ ," she sobbed weakly.

"Mason," he said, grim but patient. "You know that I'm right, you are just infuriatingly stubborn and very, very good at denial."

"Can't you just- can't you just hear me out-"

"If hearing you out means entertaining the proposal to sacrifice yourself, then no, ma'am."

"I'm not _sacrificing myself_! All I'm saying is...maybe...maybe if I gave myself to Gina, maybe I could convince her to-"

"You can't."

"Just _listen, dammit-_ "

"Mason!" Eugene's desperate tone took her off guard. " _You. Can't_. You can't change her, you can't reach her, you can't sway her. This is how she is, and how she always was, and how she will always be. _You_ are not a cure for that. That was never your responsibility."

 _Please, Gina. I'm sorry._

 _I can make you better._

She shook her head again, fiercely, trying to dislodge the memory. But it was like acid, eating through her brain, making holes and spilling blood.

"Just let me _go_ ," she cried wretchedly. "This is _my fault_."

" _Mason_." Eugene pressed his forehead to hers, and she felt the warmth of his own tears join with hers. "It's _not_. It is not your fault. Please believe me. I am well aware she resurrected a part of you that you thought was dead and buried, but please, please listen to me. The narrative in your mind, the one she put there- there is nothing honest about it. Whatever it tells you, however it tries to wear you down, your worth is not determined by it. It never was. And I understand fully and emphatically how hard it is to overcome this. It- it tries to wear your skin like it's really you, but I assure you it is not. You are strong and brave and kind and beautiful and I love you. I will not stand idly by while you do this to yourself."

Then he kissed each of her fingertips, one by one. Fingers that had once clutched razor blades.

And he kissed her wrists. Wrists whose veins she had once hated the sight of.

And he kissed away her tears, even as his own fell to take their place. Tears that were proof of her weakness, her shame...

"Now," he said after a while. "If I release you, do you solemnly swear not to run off into the snake pit? The others and I thought up a boatload of contingency plans. I would like to discuss such matters with you at this time- none of them involve you giving yourself over to her, by the way- and if I have to sit on you in order to converse like civilized people, I will."

Before Mason could respond, a shout came from the living room- Maggie, calling for everyone. Mason and Eugene jolted up, eyes wide with alarm, and rushed out of the room. The house was a fluster of commotion, everyone shouting and grabbing for weapons.

"What is it?"

"There's a Whisperer outside."

"Just the one?"

"I don't know."

"They must have snuck up during the shift change."

Mason was reaching for one of the guns when she saw Judith, switchblade in hand, race for the door; Shiva, who had been hissing at something from the windowsill, leapt down to dart after her.

" _No_!" Mason cried, bolting after them.

The Whisperer was indeed waiting outside, dressed in walker skin and grinning like a ghoul. Mason dove forward, snatching Judith before she made it halfway to him.

Judith screeched, fighting tooth and nail to get free, her face red and glistening with tears. Her switchblade cut Mason a few times in her struggle to escape, but Mason noticed this only distantly.

Shiva, however, barreled toward the Whisperer as if she were of the same intimidating stature as her namesake. He caught her as she lunged, though it took him a moment to hold her steady; she clung to him, a ball of fury and claws and vicious snarling, and Mason almost thought there would be no restraining her. But then he managed to grab her around her throat, tucking her little body beneath one arm.

"Hello, little beast," the man cooed, taking a knife from his belt. "I always thought skin the cat was just an expression, but-"

" _Don't_!" Mason barked, stiff with anger and fear. Judith continued to squirm, echoing Shiva's enraged wails. Sherry, Daryl, Carl, Michonne and Eugene had gathered around her, watching the Whisperer warily.

He didn't seem at all intimidated by this crowd. Instead his eyes lit up as he turned his smile on Mason.

"Hello, Reaper! I have a message for you."

Shiva let out a yowl, scrabbling at the man's chest. Without losing that eerie grin, the man tightened his grip- enough that Shiva let out a piteous cry and fell still.

" _Stop_!" Mason cried. "Just- let her go and give me the message."

His eyes gleamed. "You have a soft spot for animals? Does Alpha know? I think she would find that very interesting."

"Give her the message, asshole," Carl growled, looking as though he was barely restraining himself from leaping at the man's throat. Michonne's hand on his arm might have been the only thing holding him back.

"Alpha wants to meet with you and your group, Reaper. This time, tomorrow. And she wants all of your guns."

"Well, she ain't gettin' 'em," Daryl snarled.

"Really? She seems to think she will. Maybe it's because she plans on picking you off one by one by one if you don't." The Whisperer giggled cheerfully. "She's happy to do it in any way she needs to- whether that's starving you out in this house or hunting you down if you try to run or simply lying in wait like a spider. But she's getting what she wants this time. You have the rest of today to ready your guns or accept your deaths. Either way. If you don't show tomorrow, we will take that as a refusal of our demands. Oh- and she did want me to tell you that it would not be in your best interest to show up tomorrow, guns blazing."

Daryl snorted. "Oh, yeah?"

"Your bullets would run out before you could defeat us. We are many. We would swallow you whole."

The way he said it, a chill crept up Mason's spine. Her mind was already racing, deciphering Alpha's message. She knew Alpha better than anyone; she was the only one who might know the best course of action.

Her thoughts jarred to a halt, however, when the Whisperer raised his knife again, aiming it at Shiva's skull.

Mason let out a cry, lurching forward in a vain attempt to stop him.

A gun fired. Mason looked up to see Eugene, his face cold and unforgiving as he watched the Whisperer crumple to the ground.

In his hand, he held Rick's revolver.

Sensing her opportunity, Judith wriggled out of Mason's arms, sobbing as she stumbled toward Shiva. Carl and Michonne raced after her, Daryl and Sherry scanning the clifftop for any other unwelcome guests.

Eugene stood where he was for a moment, slowly drawing back his arm. His eyes slid down to the revolver and he blinked in bewilderment, as though waking from a dream.

His hand began to tremble.

Mason scrambled to her feet, touching his arm.

"Eugene," she murmured.

"I- I didn't mean to," he stammered. "It was just the first thing I grabbed from inside, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay. It's okay."

Gently, she pried the revolver from his fingers, trying not to flinch from it herself, and tucked it in her belt. She glanced over to see Michonne gingerly carrying Shiva, and Carl carrying Judith, who was still crying but no longer fighting.

"She's okay," Michonne assured her. "I think her leg's just dislocated. We can fix her right up, okay?"

Judith just let out a whimper.

Mason, Eugene, Daryl and Sherry lingered outside for a moment.

"From now on, no gaps between watch shifts," Eugene said, and he sounded so...tired. "The relief group will take up their post while the previous group is still there, so there is never a time, however short, when we are left unguarded."

Sherry nodded. "Daryl and I can keep watch for now. Just make sure to fill us in as soon as you get the chance."

Mason and Eugene headed inside, unsurprised to find everyone already waiting for them in the living room. Carl was hastily filling them all in. When he was finished, Tanner let out a snort.

"This bitch really is crazy if she thinks we're handing over our guns."

"Don't you think...you know, maybe we should consider it?" Ashlee spoke up. "I mean, what if it's some kind of trap or something?"

"Oh, right. Someone gives us some ooky spooky speech and so we lay down and show our bellies? Fuck that."

"I mean, really, they don't have anything," Heath said. "Just...threats."

Mason frowned, exchanging a glance with Eugene. He looked as doubtful as she did, and she knew he was going over the Whisperer's message again in his head just as she was.

The others continued arguing, debating, and the tension in the room was palpable. At her side, Eugene was tensing- gearing up to step in, she realized. It was not his responsibility, but he was shouldering it anyway.

Because she had been absent. She had been sleepwalking.

Guilt seared a hole in her. He was grieving, too, as scared and uncertain as the rest of them, but she had left him to keep the group together while she mourned.

 _It's time._

Hearing Rick's voice, she found herself looking for him, but it didn't wreck her as thoroughly as she expected when she didn't see him.

He was there. She felt his strength at her shoulder, reminding her of her own strength. The strength she'd felt before, very briefly, in her dream.

She thought of what Eugene had been trying to tell her. About the narrative in her mind that wasn't real, that convinced her she was guilty, she was weak, she was worthless unless she could prevent every bad thing from happening.

She didn't want this. She wasn't ready, but it was time all the same.

Letting out a quiet breath, she spoke up, raising her voice so it could be heard over the building tumult.

"She wants us to fight. That's what she's expecting we'll do."

Everyone stared at her for a moment, startled. She wondered if it was because of what she'd said...or because she'd said anything at all.

"Why?" Dave finally said. "They don't even have firepower. At least, not enough to rival ours."

"They might," Carol cut in sharply. "We talked about this."

"I think it's safe to say they're lacking on their end," Mason said. "If they had enough to bring us to our knees, Gin- Alpha would be using it. She likes to play games, but she's been chasing us for so long I think she's probably antsy to get...to get what she wants."

 _To get me,_ she added silently. Eugene's expression darkened, like he could read her thoughts.

"That doesn't make sense, though," Jesus said. "That she would want us to fight, I mean, if we have all the guns."

"I can't say exactly why, but I know her. I...I know how she operates. There's some reason she wants us to fight-"

 _"Your bullets would run out before you could defeat us."_

Her blood ran cold but she carried on. "So...so we don't. Not at first, I mean."

Tanner threw her a look of pure disbelief. "So what? We hand over our weapons, just like that?"

"No. We just have to make them _think_ we're playing along. But whatever we hand over-" She held up the revolver, opened the cylinder and emptied the bullets into her hand. "All empties, no ammo."

"You don't think she'll suspect?" Morgan asked.

"Well...Eugene and I are really good liars. We had Negan snowed. I think we could make the whole exchange convincing enough."

"What about the weight?" Carol said. "The guns will be lighter unloaded."

"She won't be able to tell if they're all in a gun bag. And I...I can convince her it's a surrender. _And_ even if she does figure it out...we'll still have all the ammo. If it comes to that."

"Mason, this is one hell of a gamble, I don't think I even have to tell you," Jesus said.

"I know," she replied. "But she's baiting us. I _know_ she is, I _know_ she wants us to fight, I just don't know why."

"I think Mason's right," Denise said. "Alpha's a manipulator and she's playing an angle. She's not just gonna come right out and tell us what it is."

"Okay, well we need to go over the whole plan. Every detail," Rosita said. "If we're playing it this close to the chest, we need to be crystal fucking clear on the details."

Nobody disagreed.

~m~

Water whispered over her bare feet. Mason closed her eyes and tried to imagine it was just another twilight on the beach, that nothing had changed at all, that she hadn't just finished burying her surrogate father.

She was still covered in soil. It was caught beneath her fingernails. She'd come to the shore to wash it clean, but now that she was here, she hesitated.

Something about the way the dirt veiled her skin...something about it grounded her. It felt a bit like an acceptance. Of Rick's death. Of this new war. Of her new role, that even now she was terrified of taking that final step into.

She wasn't surprised when a hand slid gently into hers. She could tell without looking that it was Eugene, his own fingers grimy from the burial. She tapped her pinky finger against his.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Eugene pressed his lips to Mason's head. "For what?"

"I left you alone in this. I was caught up in my own grief and I just...wasn't there when you needed me."

"You had every right to mourn. In any case, you're back now. Aren't you?"

"I am. Thank you. For keeping them together."

"I did my best, Mason. But I can't lead like you can."

She wanted to tell him that he could, that he was better than he gave himself credit for, but she knew it would only make him uncomfortable.

Footsteps in the sand announced the arrival of others. Opening her eyes, she turned, and blinked at the sight of the rest of her family gathered before her; the only ones absent were Tanner, Ashlee and Renee, who were keeping watch at the house. All their faces were shadowed with grief; she could barely stand to look at Carl or Michonne.

"What's up, guys?" she asked quietly.

No one said anything. Michonne met her gaze, her eyes bright with sorrow and vengeance. But there was no doubt in them, not a bit of it, as, chin trembling, she laid her fist over her heart and nodded to Mason.

Mason stilled.

Carl was next, solemn and quiet even as tears rolled down his cheeks. Then Daryl and the rest of the Misfits, and everyone else.

Mason swallowed repeatedly, but it did no good. She choked on her rising tears. Even Eugene at her side had placed his fist over his heart, his other hand squeezing hers in support. Just like that night in the desert, except then Mason had been stepping down as leader. The moment felt like a strange reflection.

"We wanted you to know..." Michonne began, closing her eyes briefly as her voice faltered. She breathed in and out, very deliberately, and Mason could almost see her pulling her broken pieces back together. "We didn't want there to be any doubt. If you're willing to lead us, Mason, we are ready to follow."

 _I don't want this!_ she wanted to cry, wanted to scream it until the world reordered itself back into what it used to be.

But it was time all the same.

The feather in her hair twirled in the breeze, reminding her of Ezekiel, of what he'd once said to her.

 _"I could tell you were the same. Willing to play whatever role you had to for your people."_

She was.

Half-sobbing, she laid her hand over her own heart.

"I will do anything for you," she promised them. "I will do everything to keep you safe. We _will_ make it through this. I have never believed in anything more than I believe in all of you."

There was no fear at all in her voice, though it rattled around in her belly. She wished she had something more profound to say, or that she could think of the perfect words to explain how much she loved them, how sorry she was that this was happening to them.

"We know, Mama Death," Carol said. The assurance in her voice gave steel to Mason's spine. She had never wanted to be leader, no, but she was the luckiest there ever would be to have such warriors stand with her.

Mason wiped the tears from her face and said, "Let's get back to the house. We need to make sure we're all ready for tomorrow."

With a murmur of agreement, the others obeyed. Mason watched them go for a moment, trying to get a handle on her tears. From here on out, she would have to be conscious of everything she said, everything she did, absolutely _everything_. It was an exhausting thought.

Eugene planted another kiss on her head, sighing into her hair.

"I am well aware this isn't what you wanted," he said. An understatement. "But you carry it beautifully all the same."

Stifling the urge to cry harder, Mason shook her head. "No, I fall apart completely, but thanks."

"Rick believed in you. A long, long time before you knew you could do something like this." Eugene bumped his Wolf scar lightly against hers. "The family believes in you. _I_ believe in you and I always have."

It gave her strength like nothing else could, his faith in her. She could not do this without him. She could not.

"Thank you," she murmured.

~m~

It was nearly time. Everyone was readying themselves, hiding their guns- fully-loaded- beneath their clothes. The bag of guns meant for the Whisperers was already sitting by the door.

Mason was striding through the house, making sure everything was fortified. They had sealed up nearly all exits and entrances; once they left, there would be only two ways in and out. Denise had run drills with the kids- who she'd be staying behind to watch- so they all knew what to do in case someone got inside.

But everything was as secure as it was going to get. Mason reminded herself that there was little else now to do but face the music.

She turned to head back and gather the others when she paused by one of the bedrooms.

"...really don't think it's a good idea for her to be out there." That was Charlie, her voice uncharacteristically high with anxiety- exactly what had alerted Mason in the first place. Charlie never let her fear show. "That bitch wants her. Specifically her. I mean, there's still time. Maybe we could talk to her about staying behind."

"You don't really think she'd agree to that, do you?" Dray, quietly amused and peaceful as always. "Look, everyone's going to be there with her. They'll protect her. We are all going to get through this."

There was a brief silence, and then Charlie's voice came again, low and ragged.

"Dray..."

"Charlie." There was a smile in Dray's voice now. "You are incredibly smart. So I know you already know this, but I am in love with you."

Mason jolted, at the same time Charlie let out a breathless protest.

"Dray-"

"I'm only telling you because you're my best friend, and I always want there to be truth between us. And we don't ever have to bring this up again if you don't want, but I swear to god I'm here for you, however you need me to be."

In the silence that followed, Mason realized belatedly that she should probably stop eavesdropping, which was exactly when Ashlee tapped her on the shoulder.

Mason jumped. "Shit!"

"Oh, s-sorry." Ashlee ducked her head apologetically. "We're ready, we're just waiting on Dray and Charlie."

"Uh...right. Yeah. I was just about to grab them."

A bit sheepishly, Mason knocked on the door. She hoped it didn't show on her face how much she'd overheard. In any case, neither Dray nor Charlie mentioned anything was out of the norm.

The Misfits would be heading out first. They'd volunteered on a recon mission to find the route the Whisperers took to get to the beach so that they could cut it off. At some point, Mason and her family would pull their guns and unleash on the Whisperers. If any fled during the assault, it was the job of the Misfits to bar their path back to wherever it was they called home.

A stipulation of their agreement- one that Dave had proposed and that Mason hated- was that they would leave all the guns with Mason and the others. Though they were keeping a shit ton of ammo, they were still giving away a bagful of actual guns, leaving just enough for one per person. The Misfits would arm themselves with bows and arrows instead, which they were admittedly terrific with after the war.

And so, they made their leave, wishing everyone good luck. Mason could barely stand watching them go, but Eugene assured her that they were fully capable of handling their shit.

An hour passed. Tara, who was keeping watch at the front door, tensed suddenly.

"They're here," she said.

Everyone looked to Mason, who refused to let an inch of doubt show in her features.

"Ya'll remember the play? How...how I'm gonna have to act around her?"

They all nodded solemnly. It took everything, but Mason managed to offer them a small, fierce smile.

"We're gonna make it through this. I know we are."

She grabbed the gun bag and led the way out.

The Whisperers were indeed waiting some distance down the beach. There were easily fifty or so, but they milled about with their walkers so that it was impossible to tell who was living and who was dead. Alpha stood before them with two men, one who looked old- Murph, Eugene had said his name was- and one who was young and lanky and covered in walker blood. The three of them were the only ones not wearing someone else's skin.

Mason hunched her shoulders as she approached, as though cowed by the sight of Alpha and her group. For the next few minutes, everything about her was going to be a lie.

Alpha grinned that nightmare grin. "Nice to see you again, Reaper. Sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral. Rick, wasn't it?"

The fury that seized Mason then... It nearly undid her whole facade.

"Of course, I guess I don't _really_ owe you an apology since you killed my messenger," Alpha continued. "An eye for an eye, right? Now we're even?"

"Gina," Mason said, in a low voice. Timid, but not too timid. She couldn't afford to overdue it. "I brought the guns. But I need to know right now- if I give them to you, are you going to leave my people in peace?"

Alpha's eyes gleamed- surprised and triumphant. "I'm open to it," she said. "But first I need to make one thing clear to you. I am _not_ Gina anymore, do you understand? Call me that again, and I'll skin one of yours alive and wear them like a cardigan."

Mason flinched. "Y-yes. Alpha. I'm sorry, I just... Please. I'll do what you ask, just please leave my people alone."

For a moment, Alpha just watched her, examining every inch of Mason's face, her body, until Mason felt stripped bare. But her lie did not falter. She was, for all the world, no more than a mouse driven by desperation.

Finally, Alpha nodded. "Alright. Give me the guns, Mason."

Mason stepped forward, and right as she did, just as they'd discussed, Eugene called her back.

"Don't give her anything," he growled.

"I have to," Mason said- quietly, as though attempting to keep her voice from reaching Alpha. "Please- please, I can't let her hurt you."

"Do not give her a single goddamn thing. She won't be satisfied, you _know_ that."

He played his part so well, there was not a single flaw in any line he delivered. Mason fed off of his expertise. They were so good at playing the game. The others, too, were great- feigning unease, tension, while Mason and Eugene argued. She supposed, given their current situation, it wasn't terribly difficult.

Alpha watched them parry back and forth, her smile growing wider, before cutting in. "Much as I'd _love_ to watch this beautiful display of marital dispute, I really would like my guns now."

Eugene protested one last time, but Mason ignored him, crossing the gap between her people and Alpha's- a stipulation Mason had proposed and that Eugene hated. But she was determined to be a buffer; she was not about to let anyone else near Alpha if she could help it.

When she handed the bag to Alpha, she paused. The proximity set her nerves to crackling- with rage, with fear, with the impossibility of the whole thing. But when she spoke, her voice was exactly how she wanted it- perfectly balanced between submissiveness and warning, as though she were trying to make a threat but was too scared to put real force behind it.

"Alpha," she whispered. "Please. Don't hurt them."

"Always the sweetheart." The smile remained on Alpha's face, but her eyes were vicious, cold. "Go back to your people, Mason."

Heart pounding, Mason stepped away, gearing up to give the green light, the silent signal-

"Oh, but wait, I almost forgot."

Mason stilled.

"I'm _also_ gonna need Sasha and Eugene. And you, of course."

Slowly, she turned back. "Excuse me?"

Cruelty glinted in those green eyes. "I know you only have one ear now, but I think you heard me just fine."

"I gave you the guns. We had a deal."

"We had one deal. Now I want to make another."

Rage rippled up Mason's spine, but before she could move, before she could give the signal, movement on the cliff caught her attention.

She thought at first they were walkers, but the way they stood, perfectly in control... She knew they were Whisperers. They began to march down the snaking path to the beach, so many of them that Mason's throat dried up.

This. This was why Alpha had goaded them to fight. So that they would waste their bullets and _still_ end up outnumbered. And they were. Horribly, horribly outnumbered.

Unconsciously, Mason found herself angling her body between the approaching herd and her people, as though she could stop them all on her own.

Her mind raced.

 _We still have all the ammo. The guns we gave them are useless. We can still put up a fight._

But she remembered how hard it had been to hold any ground against them, the Whisperers and walkers together. Trying not to get bit, trying not to get shot, just trying to figure out who was living and dead...

Even if they fought...even if they fought, even with all the ammo, they still might not make it out alive-

Alpha laughed, apparently amused by the frantic calculation on Mason's face. "I thought you got my message. Or did you kill him before he could deliver it? _We are many_. Besides, I brought a little something to sweeten the deal for you."

At the same time she said this, Mason spotted them. Stumbling down to the beach amid the horde of Whisperers, their hands bound with zip ties, all of them bloodied and bruised as though they'd put up one hell of a fight.

Her Misfits.

A small, ragged breath escaped her.

 _No._

"You really trained your mountain warriors up right, Reaper," Alpha said, wicked and triumphant. "It was just pure luck that we were able to capture them. They sure as hell didn't make it easy. I was afraid I'd have to kill them just to get them down here."

Mason watched, stricken, as the Misfits were led to the middle of the dead ring. They stared back at her in anguish.

"Give me what I want, Mason, and I'll let them go," Alpha said. "It's really fucking simple."

"Don't," Tanner snarled. "Don't give her a damn thing."

"Listen to him," Dave said, half-sobbing. "It's okay. We're okay."

Mason clenched her teeth, tears blurring her vision. "Please-"

"That's not what I want, Mason. I do love it when you beg, though."

"Just me then. Just- just me. You can have me, I don't give a shit, but leave the rest of them alone."

"Mason, _no_ ," Eugene growled. He and Sasha stepped forward to flank her. His eyes glittered with hate as he regarded Alpha. "We will go with you, Alpha. Release our friends and we will go."

"No!" Desperately, Mason tried to push them both away. "Get back with the others-"

But Eugene and Sasha seized her arms. Alpha watched them as though they were the funniest thing she'd ever seen.

"Mason." Eugene pressed his forehead to hers, holding her gaze. "In darkness and light."

Hearing that, that little piece of their wedding vows, nearly broke her.

Before she could respond, he made the symbol for _quiet_ , the symbol for _fake them out_ , just as he had when they'd been captured by the Saviors. And god, no, god, _no,_ she didn't want to play that game again, she couldn't stand it, but-

Alpha had them by the balls. There was no way out but through the snake pit.

Ignoring the chorus of protests behind them, ignoring the Misfits, Mason offered her hands to Alpha.

"That's a good girl," Alpha hissed, snatching her wrists. A group of Whisperers stepped forward. They zip tied Mason's hands together and threaded heavy metal chains through the loop; Mason blanched, remembering how the Wolves had done the same with their captives. She watched anxiously as Eugene and Sasha received the same treatment, her heart thundering a mile a minute, wishing she could protect them all.

As the Whisperers worked, Mason noticed that the man covered in walker blood was staring at Alpha in shock and disgust, as though he'd discovered a maggot in his meal.

"You told me this group captured her," he said. "You told me she was a _prisoner_ here."

Alpha shrugged, too smug to be bothered. "Stockholm syndrome. I'd think it was pretty obvious."

The man's eyes flickered up to meet Mason's for the first time, and she saw then... That he understood. That Alpha had played him, too.

When the three of them were properly contained, Alpha snapped her fingers. The Whisperers began leading Mason, Eugene and Sasha away, away from their family, just as another group began leading the Misfits out of the dead ring.

Except...

Except they were only leading three of them away. Tanner, Dave and Renee.

Mason jerked to a halt.

"What are you- _all_ of them, Alpha. _All of them_."

Tanner, too, thrashed against his restraints. " _Let them go, you bitch_!"

Alpha slid her gaze from the Misfits to Mason.

"It just occurred to me that I'm only getting three of you. Three for six doesn't seem like a fair exchange, does it?"

Bloodlust seared Mason's veins. She forgot the part she was supposed to play, only that she wanted Alpha's throat, she wanted to tear it open with her teeth-

"We gave you the fucking guns, you are getting me and Eugene and Sasha, just like you wanted, now release them!"

Alpha just grinned.

Mason struggled futilely against the chains.

" _Release them_!"

Dray, Charlie and Ashlee stood huddled at the center of the dead ring, as close their captors would allow. Charlie's face was limned with steely rage. Ashlee was trembling, sobbing. Dray's eyes were flickering back and forth, cool and calculating.

Dave, Renee and Tanner had pulled to a halt and were shouting at Alpha, the Whisperers escorting them barely able to hold them back. The rest of Mason's family had tensed, one wrong second away from pulling their guns.

At Mason's side, Eugene and Sasha had started struggling, too, snarling for the other Misfits to be freed.

Alpha watched this all with bland amusement.

Then she snapped her fingers again.

The inner layer of the dead ring shifted. The Whisperers stepped back and the walkers flooded into the center.

Mason thrashed. " _No_! _NO_!"

Charlie turned to Dray, crying his name-

The walkers descended on all three of them, too many to fight, too many, too many-

Mason screamed, fighting to break free, dizzy with panic, desperation, wrath.

She caught one glimpse of Dray, trying to protect Charlie and Ashlee even as the walkers ripped him open.

She heard Ashlee's wail cut off into broken, wretched gurgling.

And Charlie, who was the last to go down, her eyes glinting vengeance, as though she intended to come back from the grave.

Mason's strength failed her, though she kept screaming. She didn't think she'd be able to stop. Tears cut a hot path down her face. Nothing felt real, nothing felt alright.

They were dead they were dead they were _dead-_

Distantly, she heard Tanner, screaming his own grief, his own fury. Renee and Dave crying with him.

Her family her Misfits her best friends-

" _Now_ we're even," Alpha announced over the uproar. "But if anyone tries anything, I will skin these three right in front of all of you." She held a knife to Mason's throat for emphasis, hard enough to draw blood. Mason barely noticed. "Not just for your viewing pleasure, but for educational purposes. So you know what's waiting for you, too."

Mason stumbled as the Whisperers began leading her, Eugene and Sasha away. She had just enough coherency to make sure the other Whisperers were coming with them- that they were indeed leaving the rest of her family in peace- before her mind went somewhere far away from her body.

She did notice, however, when Alpha paused to look back at Dray, Charlie and Ashlee. The walkers still surrounded them. Still feasted on them.

Lazily, imperiously, she motioned to a group of her Whisperers.

"Harvest their heads. I want them."

Deep in Mason's belly, a new, furious darkness began to unfurl.


	28. Control

Hello, guys, I'm back with another chapter and this is one I'm very excited about so I'll keep this note quick. The chapter title is "Control" by Halsey, which is absolutely perfect for this part of the story, and for how Mason, Alpha and Eugene interact. As always, super, super huge thank you for your reviews and support, you guys really are the best. I hope ya'll enjoy this one, please let me know what you think!

28\. Control

 **Mason**

The only reason she was still conscious was because Eugene and Sasha were there.

If they hadn't been she would have already closed her eyes, let the agony claim her. Her face felt swollen and hot from tears that refused to stop. Her body felt like the heaviest burden.

Her Misfits, her Misfits...

Charlie, who had endured so much and come out stronger on the others side, who had loved even fiercer than she fought, who had never given the world the satisfaction of seeing her crumble.

Dray, who had been so kind to Mason even when she wasn't very lovable, who had known darkness but chosen the light, who had only ever wanted peace and flowers for his family.

Ashlee, who read books in odd places, who had been sweet and shy and concerned for everyone, who would have given anyone the clothes off her back if they needed it.

Fuck, _fuck_ -

The Whisperers led them through the woods for what seemed like an eternity, murmuring to the walkers that traveled with them like they were soothing children. Mason glanced intermittently at Eugene and Sasha, to see how they were holding up, and they did the same. Their grief echoed Mason's. Eugene especially looked shattered. They had been his family, too, the oddballs who had taken him and Mason in and given them somewhere to belong, who had restored their hope after their internment in the Sanctuary.

Finally, they came to a break in the trees, a large brick building looming ahead. It looked sleek, as though it had gone up just before the apocalypse. Across the top, a scrawl of artfully applied paint proclaimed it to be "SoCal Solstice Brewery".

The hairs on the back of Mason's neck stood on end. _Solstice._

 _Here is your longest night. The darkest winter Solstice._

 _I'm going to dissect you._

 _I will take everything you love._

Her nightmares. Even years ago, back in Alexandria...they'd been trying to warn her about this.

She stumbled dizzily as they were herded inside. The place was grim and dark, the windows painted over with black to keep out prying eyes. Candles and floodlights cast everything in eerie shadows. They passed people on their way down a long hall, people who looked...normal. Not crazy. But Mason supposed it was probably just because none of them were dressed in someone else's skin.

The room they were brought to was small and lined with copper basins- fermentation tanks. Mason caught a glimpse of her distorted reflection in the burnished metal. Her own dead eyes...

"Search them," Alpha ordered lazily. "I want all their shit. And this one-"

She paused in front of Eugene, who glared back at her as though he were cataloging all the ways to dismember her. She grinned.

"Be extra careful with this one. I won't have any more trickass bullshit from him."

"I thought you liked an even playing field," Eugene said. His voice was quiet- and all the more menacing for it.

Alpha just shook her head. "C'mon, Chemist, you know the saying: Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, and I'll eat your fucking throat if you try it again."

Mason's heart pounded as the Whisperers began the rough, tedious process of patting them down- cutting their zip ties but keeping them bound with chains.

They were going to find the guns. And when they found the guns-

Her mind whirled, trying to come up with a plan, or a lie, or _something_.

But the Whisperers had already found one of Sasha's guns. He held it aloft for Alpha to see.

"Got a pistol here."

Alpha's eyes narrowed, but before she could speak, the man from before, the one covered in walker blood, stormed through the crowd to confront her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, and Mason had to admire the balls it took to talk to her like that. "You killed those people. You _killed_ them- for what? You said you were gonna let them go!"

Alpha gave him an insolent smile. "Calm your tits, Nick, they were trash anyway."

Rage flickered in Mason's belly.

A muscle feathered in Nick's jaw. "You didn't have to kill them. You didn't have to kill anyone."

"Don't go all tree-hugger on me now. I told you I would do whatever I had to to get her back."

Alpha glanced at Mason as she spoke. Mason could barely stomach looking back at her, knowing what kind of person she was, knowing that Mason had convinced herself once upon a time that she was in love with such a monster, knowing that once upon a time she had felt _guilt_ over not being able to save her...

A hand lifted the back of her shirt. She flinched as the revolver, _Rick's_ revolver, was ripped from the small of her back, where she'd taped it.

"This is a nice piece," the Whisperer said, smirking beneath his rotten mask. Mason quivered with fury. "Say your goodbyes now, cuz this bitch is mi-"

Before she could stop herself, Mason lunged forward, cracking her head against the Whisperer's nose. He stumbled back, dropping the gun. Mason thrashed, trying in vain to reach it.

" _Give it back_!" she snarled.

But another Whisperer simply picked it up and handed it to Alpha, who raised an eyebrow at it and then at Mason.

"This _is_ a pretty piece," she said. "I don't know if I'd be willing to die for it, though."

"It's _mine_ ," Mason replied. " _Give it back._ "

The Whisperer whose nose she'd broken had recovered; his walker face was askew, lips and nose torn open, revealing his own bloodied nose beneath. He stalked toward her, bristling with rage, but Alpha stepped in front of him.

"Look at you, Windham," she said cheerfully. "She made you all kinds of beautiful."

"She broke my goddamn nose!" he thundered.

"Yes, she did. Touch her, however, and I will _cut it_ _off_."

Mason didn't doubt that she would and clearly Windham didn't, either, because he yielded a step. His eyes seared into Mason's a second longer before he looked away.

Alpha waved a hand scornfully. "Go get Murph to reset it. He can have you looking just as fugly as before. Nick, take his place."

For a moment, Nick stared her down. It was a test, Mason realized. Whatever relationship those two had, Alpha was testing him.

Finally, without a word, Nick turned and reached for Mason.

She stood rigidly while he patted her down, much more gently than Windham had bothered to. His lips were thin with anger, but she thought there might have been an apology in his expression.

Alpha kept talking, but Mason was only half-paying attention, trying to suppress her bloodlust.

Nick skimmed his hand down her arm. Mason held her breath as his fingers paused over the ridge of metal on her wrist. He pulled her sleeve up to reveal the bullet bracelet she wore, blinking at it- confirming that they were real cartridges- before lifting his gaze to hers.

Mason met his stare without flinching. Alpha kept talking. She and the other Whisperers were unaware so far of Nick's discovery, but a few more seconds and someone was likely to spot it...

Nick eyed her a moment longer before pulling her sleeve back down, smoothly covering the bullets.

"That's everything," Nick said, and his lie was effortless.

"Right. Chain them up for now. I'll be back in a minute," Alpha said, motioning for Nick to follow her.

Mason watched them go as the Whisperers pushed her, Eugene and Sasha back against the fermentation tanks. It was these that the Whisperers bound them to, each of them to a tank, huddled in a neat little row on the cold cement floor.

The Whisperers kept watch armed with the confiscated weapons. Like they thought there was any way for their prisoners to escape without serious bodily harm.

Mason, Eugene and Sasha glared them down, unified by an unspoken agreement to convey through menacing silence what they intended to do to their captors.

It seemed their message was being received; several of the Whisperers began fidgeting, and several more wouldn't meet any of their gazes directly.

Mason focused on this, on the satisfaction, however small, of instilling unease in her enemies. She couldn't let herself think of anything else, not yet. She needed to be able to think, she needed to be able to plan.

She was the leader now. She couldn't afford her grief to weigh her down when there were people counting on her.

But god.

 _God._

All she wanted was to sink beneath its weight.

~m~

Some time later, when Alpha finally returned, Mason was utterly exhausted from holding herself together. It was a serious effort to keep her expression neutral, to not let this rawness show on her face- although she did wonder what role it was she should be playing. Meek mouse or vengeful wolf?

"Let the Reaper loose," Alpha said by way of greeting. The Whisperers hesitated, but Alpha had only to throw them a glare and they obeyed.

Mason frowned as they unchained her. She tried to read Alpha's expression and couldn't.

"Well," Alpha prodded. "Go on and stand up."

She could feel Eugene and Sasha tense beside her, but she didn't look at them. She was wary to draw any attention to them at all if she could help it. She staggered a bit as she climbed to her feet, flexing her arms, which had started going numb from being bound in one position.

For a moment, Alpha and Mason stared each other down, Mason wrestling with the urge to lunge for her throat. Even if she managed to kill her, the other Whisperers were likely to kill Mason- which would have been fine with her, except there was no way she was leaving Eugene and Sasha to face this alone.

Then Alpha pulled a gun from her belt.

It wasn't one she recognized, not one of the empties they'd surrendered, so it was likely loaded. Mason tensed, bracing herself for the shot. Behind her, a chorus of shouts and clanking chains from Eugene and Sasha.

But Alpha held the gun out to Mason.

The Whisperers jolted in surprise. One of them reached out.

"Alpha, what are you-"

"Shut up and stand by the door."

Hesitantly they did as she said. Mason watched them mistrustfully, angling herself between them and her family.

Another beat of silence passed. Alpha scowled impatiently.

"Take the gun, Reaper."

"Why?"

A trick, it was some sort of trick-

Alpha sneered. "Because Simon says."

Mason refused to move. After a moment, Alpha let out a sigh.

"You know, I'm really disappointed in you. Giving up the guns, that was really...just...such a pussy move."

"It was what you wanted," Mason replied stiffly.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually do it. I expected a little fight out of you. You were the Scourge of the Sanctuary. What happened?"

"I don't gamble my family's lives."

"So how was it I ended up killing three of them? Four, technically."

The blood boiled in Mason's veins.

 _you bitch you fucking bitch i'm going to fucking kill you_

Alpha grinned slyly. "You know what's _really_ sad? They had more fight than you, and they _still_ let themselves get eaten."

Every breath was like fire. She felt choked with it.

" _Let_ themselves?" Mason repeated, so enraged her voice was barely a whisper.

"The blonde one- Ashlee, right? Did you hear her at the end? I've skinned rabbits less shrill than that."

Mason quivered.

 _I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE YOU FUCKING BITCH_

 _Easy._

Abraham.

 _She's trying to get a rise out of you._

Well, she was succeeding. Alpha knew just what to say and exactly how to say it. She always had.

"I guess she's sort of lucky, though, that the walkers got her," Alpha continued. "The things _I_ would've done to her... She was _cute_. Innocent-looking, you know, even with those piercings."

"Shut up."

Alpha raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, Mace? You know I always come home to you, I just appreciate a nice little pussy tease every now and then-"

" _Shut. Up._ "

"Of course, she wasn't as pretty as that one bimbo. You know. The one from the prison. _Beth_."

Abruptly, Mason saw red.

She lunged, hands outstretched for the gun, ignoring the protests from Eugene and Sasha, ignoring the voices in her head. Alpha was goading her on, she knew it, she knew it, but she didn't give a shit. She wanted the bitch dead.

Instead of trying to dodge her or jerk the gun away, Alpha snatched Mason by the back of her shirt and drew her closer, like they were dance partners preparing to kiss. Her eyes were as wild as Mason felt. She thrust the gun into Mason's hand.

"Shoot me, Mason," Alpha growled. "You mad? You want me dead? Then shoot me."

Mason stumbled back, trembling with ire; her bones didn't feel strong enough to hold the weight of it but by some miracle they didn't snap. She aimed the gun. Alpha spread her arms wide, eyes glittering.

"You won't do it, Reaper," she whispered. "Not to me-"

Mason pulled the trigger.

The gun just clicked.

The breath caught in Mason's throat.

She pulled the trigger again. Again.

Empty.

Genuine shock flickered across Alpha's face, but it disappeared quickly. She strode forward, knocking the gun from Mason's grip and seizing her by the collar of her shirt.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" she hissed. "All the guns you gave us are empties. Where the fuck's the ammo, Mace? I'm guessing your people still have it. I'm guessing they're still armed...just like you three were when we searched you. Lying bitch."

Mason's heart pounded.

Her bullet bracelet. If she could-

But Alpha shoved her away before she had a chance to react, hard enough that Mason skidded across the floor on her ass.

"Well, I hope you're proud of your clever little plan," Alpha continued. "We'll be heading back to your family's abode very soon to get what's ours."

"No- _no_ -"

Mason scrambled to her feet, her heart lurching with panic. Despite this, despite her grief and wild rage, her movements were fluid. Her blows were strong and controlled...and yet she could not get an edge on Alpha.

There was something in her, some depthless well of coals that never guttered, and it made her cruel and quick and accurate. Her fire met Mason's fire, evenly matched.

In the middle of the scuffle, Mason's eyes landed on the gun.

She didn't have time to pick it up and load it, but if she could somehow save it...

Pretending she was wholly invested in combat, she kicked her heel back against the pistol. It went skidding under one of the fermentation tanks.

This single moment of distraction cost her. Alpha was able to knock her back into the Whisperers, who were ready and waiting with the chains. Mason struggled, but in no time they had bound her again to the tank next to Eugene, who looked her over worriedly.

"What the hell were you trying to prove fighting me?" Alpha panted.

Mason glared at her, hoping Alpha wouldn't think about the gun, hoping that because it was empty, she would completely disregard it...

"I'm not trying to prove a damn thing. I tried giving you what you wanted. I tried begging. Now I'm trying to kill you."

A strange look crossed Alpha's face, one Mason couldn't read. In any case, it shifted quickly into anger and disgust, leashed by a dark smile.

"Well, tell you what, Reaper. If your people can hold their own against mine for a full twenty-four hours, I'll give you a chance to beg for them again. In the meantime, I'd suggest you reminisce on all those memories you have of playing housewife on that perfect little beach. Maybe pretend your precious sheep are still alive. I'll be back when I feel less likely to peel that pretty face of yours right off your skull."

She strode out of the room without another word, past the Whisperers, who took up their post guarding the doorway.

Slowly, Mason looked at Eugene and Sasha. Their eyes were wide with fear, sorrow, anger, but the reality of their situation kept them from speaking. With the Whisperers listening they could make no plans. They couldn't even exchange silent signals with their hands bound. All they could do was sit, so close but so many miles away, trying to lend strength through silence.

~m~

Hours passed, hours spent doing nothing else but trying to plan, trying to strategize, trying to think of way to keep her people alive. Eventually, sheer exhaustion caught up with her; she drifted off into a restless, hazy sleep in which she thought she heard voices but could not distinguish them.

She jarred awake when someone kicked her, a disinterested blow to the leg that didn't hurt so much as alarm. Her eyes fluttered open, flicking immediately to Eugene and Sasha, who the Whisperers were waking in a similar manner. Only once she had ascertained that they were okay- or at least as okay as could be managed- did she notice Alpha standing above her.

"Rise and shine, bunny," Alpha cooed. "It's time for a field trip."

"My people," Mason growled.

"Oh, I'm not taking you to see them-"

" _Are they alive_?"

"Jesus, I forgot how snippy you get when you first wake up. They're alive," Alpha added when Mason's expression turned feral. "Currently hunkered down in that beach house. We have them surrounded but they're making a last stand. At this point it's a stalemate, because they'll likely use up all the ammo fighting us and _I fucking want it_. You and your people just specialize in pissing me off."

Even through her sheer terror, Mason couldn't help feeling a spark of fierce satisfaction. But she kept her expression neutral.

"Let them go, let them leave, and I can work something out with you," she said. "They _will_ use up all the ammo, they'll do it just to spite you, so I'd suggest thinking up another way."

Alpha grinned as one of the Whisperers lifted Mason to her feet. She couldn't feel her arms- after being bound in one awkward position for however many hours, they felt as disconnected from her body as rubber hoses.

"If you think up something that I would like, I'd be more than happy to hear it," Alpha said. "But honestly, I've accepted that the last resort will be to sweep in and slaughter everyone you love. While I'd much rather have the ammo, I'm okay with that option, too."

Mason seethed. She wished her hands were free and her arms returned to normal strength. She wished she'd had an opportunity to grab that gun.

"I would have let them live, no problem, if you'd just given the ammo to me in the first place," Alpha continued. "Now we have this whole big clusterfuck to work through and honestly, you know? I'm not really in the mood for it. I wanted to give my full attention to you and your two friends."

The Whisperers started dragging the three of them out of the room by their chains. Mason was in the lead; she kept craning her head to make sure Eugene and Sasha were still safely behind her. Her mind whirled, trying to come up with something she could give Alpha in exchange for her people.

 _You can't give her anything,_ Abraham said. _She said she would return the Misfits and then she killed three of them. You can't trust a single ginger hair on that_ One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest _head._

And Mason knew that, but...

 _I wish I were enough,_ she thought back. _I wish she had only wanted me. My people would be better off anyway._

 _That's some complete and total elephant shit if I ever heard some._

 _I wish you were here._

It was the first time she'd ever confessed this to one of the voices, confessed it to them directly, and she felt small and pathetic doing so. But she did wish Abraham was there. She wished Rick was there. She wished she wasn't the one who had to be in charge now. She wished Alpha would be satisfied with using her as a punching bag and leave the rest of her family alone.

Something tweaked her ribs. It felt so real that she jumped, looking around to see who had done it. But all of the Whisperers were occupied with guiding their prisoners, and Sasha and Eugene were still bound, and Alpha was leading the pack, and-

"I _am_ here."

The voice was no longer in her mind. Just like in the graveyard at Alexandria. Just like in the battle at the Sanctuary. It was _real_ , or at least sounded that way, so real Mason was half-expecting the others to hear it, too.

But no one reacted. And she thought she was the only one who saw it, the extra shadow that flickered briefly next to hers and then disappeared.

"Now, you got this handled, soldier, you do," Abraham continued, from somewhere just past her shoulder. "There is nothing you can give to that bitch that she will be satisfied with. Right now, you need to lay real fuckin' low, play her little game, and wait for your chance. And when you _get_ that chance, you're going to grab the bull by its big ol' soft and danglies, you understand me?"

Mason swallowed the sound she wanted to make, one that was half-laugh, half-sob.

 _Yes, sir._

When Alpha and the Whisperers led them through an exit in the back of the building, Sasha spoke up.

"Where are you talking us?" she demanded.

Mason squinted in the glare of the sunlight, looking around for any indication of what Alpha had in store for them. But she could see nothing out of the ordinary, just an empty parking lot with a pile of gravel left over from construction.

"I know this whole thing between our people is a mess, and I _know_ how much Mason likes to stress out over shit," Alpha said. "So I figured the least I could do was take her mind off things for a bit."

A prickle of dread trickled down Mason's spine.

"So why bring these two?" she asked, in as calm a voice as she could manage. "You could have left them behind. It could have just been the two of us."

"Because I'm not a fucking idiot, Mason," Alpha sneered. "Besides, I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. Just because I have a fun little date planned doesn't mean it can't also be educational."

She didn't explain further than that. Mason's stomach twisted. The urge to protect Eugene and Sasha, to hide them away from Alpha, nearly choked her.

"Why bring me at all? I mean, to your compound?" Sasha spoke up again. Her voice was steel and darkness. "You asked for me specifically. I need a reason. I get you wanted Mason, that's obvious, and Eugene, because he's her husband, but why me?"

Mason had been wondering this herself. As far as she knew, Alpha did not have a personal vendetta against Sasha...although there were lots of things Mason had never known about Alpha, or at least been too blind to see. Whatever the reason, Mason had no doubt Alpha had been figuring Sasha into her dark agenda for as long as she'd been making plans.

Cheerfully, Alpha replied, "Good question, Sasha, and my answer is that it's for me to know, and for you to find out whenever it suits me best."

Mason wasn't terribly surprised by this answer.

They walked for a while in silence, until they reached a district of suburbs that had obviously been upper crust turf before the Infection. The houses were all outlandishly large, more like mansions than anything else. It reminded Mason of the neighborhood where Alpha had lived, and indeed Alpha threw out her arms and spun in a circle in the middle of the street, the joyful tableau of a girl dancing in the sunshine.

"God, I love the air here," she said. "It smells like the downfall of every motherfucker I ever wanted dead."

"Yeah, I've always wanted to capture that essence in a cologne," Mason muttered.

Alpha's eyes gleamed. "You joke, but I know deep down you love that shit, too. Don't you remember how those assholes used to treat us? How they looked at you, like you were something they'd tracked in on the bottom of their shoe?"

Yes, she did, of course she did. The disdain with which Alpha's mother had regarded her, the shock and sympathy when Mrs. Stanton's friends learned her daughter was not only dating a girl but dating the dreaded riffraff- a _poor_ girl.

But that had been so long ago, and she had _found_ her family, her true people. It was hard to believe that the opinions of those silver-spoon shit-roaches had ever mattered to her.

"They're all dead now, so who gives a shit?" she said.

"They do," Alpha replied. "They're watching right now, turning over in hell because _we're_ here, and there's no one left to pat them on the back for all those lavish houses with their ridiculous furniture and soulless decor. Rome wasn't built in a day, but it burned in one."

"Is that what we're doing here?" Mason asked, remembering Alpha's pyro tendencies. "We're gonna burn it all down?"

Alpha danced back to meet her, reaching out to cup Mason's face in her hand. She recoiled but Alpha just tightened her grip.

"I hope for that one day," she murmured, green eyes smoldering. "I want to burn everything with you, Reaper."

The intensity in Alpha's voice- the _lust-_ made Mason's stomach churn sickly. She could feel Sasha tensing behind her, could feel Eugene's rage sparking like a frayed electrical wire.

"But, no," Alpha finally said, releasing her. "Today's not the day for a fire. Today belongs to the water."

Mason knew they had reached their destination when she saw the glass annex of one of the mansions, every window painted black just like the Whisperer compound. She assumed it to be some kind of gratuitously large sunroom until they were led inside and she spotted the pool, covered by a blue tarp. She was only able to see it in the darkened room by the light of the tiki torches that surrounded it at regular intervals.

Except...except three of those...

Mason choked on a ragged gasp, trembling. Behind her, she heard Eugene let out a broken, strangled sound of his own.

Three of the torches were not torches at all, but metal pikes, and on top of each one, a head had been impaled. They had to have been tediously applied, because they were all sentient, their brains still obviously intact-

And the faces...faces she recognized, though now-

Now they were walkers.

Just like in her nightmare.

Mason swallowed back vomit as Dray's eyes- or rather one, as half of his face had been partially devoured- rolled to meet hers. But there was nothing in them of what he used to be, no light, no laughter, no quiet calm.

There was none of Ashlee's sweetness left, none of Charlie's clever, iron will, as they snapped their teeth, riled by the scent of living flesh.

Tears welled in Mason's eyes, blurring their sallow faces. A sob bubbled in her chest, but she wouldn't give in to it, she wouldn't give Alpha the satisfaction-

"Take them down."

Sasha's voice was unyielding, ominous. Brimming with pain and vengeance- not just for Dray or Ashlee or Charlie, but for Mason and Eugene.

Alpha just smiled. Smug. Sly.

"What, you don't like my decoration-"

" _Take them down._ "

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. They're necessary for today's lesson. And I really want to drive this one home."

She strode toward Mason, who was still reeling, still trying to hold herself together, and held something out to her.

A liquor bottle. Whiskey. The first thing Mason had ever tried, the first thing Alpha had _coerced_ her into trying-

Mason blanched.

"Aw, Mason. Precious baby." Alpha pursed her lips in a pout. "I know it's hard. This will help. Take your mind off things, drown your sorrows..."

She pushed the bottle against Mason's lips, but Mason kept them pinched shut.

"C'mon. I know you're just as much an alcoholic as I am."

" _Fucking stop,_ " Eugene snarled, his voice thick with tears.

Alpha rolled her eyes. "Gag them."

The Whisperers obeyed immediately, stuffing wads of cloth into Eugene and Sasha's mouths until they choked. Mason opened her mouth to protest, and Alpha took the opportunity to pour whiskey down her throat.

Mason spluttered. It went down wrong, burning.

"Before we can go any further, I'm gonna need you drunk, Mason," Alpha said. "For old time's sake, but also to prove a point."

Mason shook her head. Whatever Alpha had planned, she knew she'd need all her wits about her.

Alpha smiled. "Drink, or I break this bottle off in your friends' throats."

Quivering, eyeing her with pure hate, Mason leaned forward and allowed Alpha to put the bottle to her lips.

She took a deep swallow, and then another, and then another. She hadn't eaten since the night before the confrontation on the beach, and the liquor settled uneasily in her empty stomach.

Her head was buzzing in no time, her limbs feeling weightless and warm. Alpha forced her to keep drinking until both Mason and the bottle were half-gone.

"There, now, see?" Alpha said, grinning as Mason swayed on her feet. "Don't you feel better?"

The room spun. Mason tried to focus her eyes on Alpha, but it took all her concentration.

"S-stop playing games," she slurred, burning with anger and humiliation. "What the- what even was the point...?"

Alpha waved a hand- a motion that Mason's eyes tried to follow. But their drunken reeling left her dizzy and nauseous, and she didn't notice until a heartbeat too late that the majority of Whisperers were dragging Eugene and Sasha away, placing Eugene at one end of the pool and Sasha at the opposite.

Dread bloomed in Mason's stomach when Eugene and Sasha's wrists and ankles were zip tied, their chains tossed aside.

It slithered a greasy line up her spine when the Whisperers began filling Eugene and Sasha's pockets with rocks.

"Stop," Mason rasped, struggling to get the words out through her drunken haze. "Whatever...whatever this is- you don't have to take it out on them. I'm right here, Alpha, take...take it out on me."

"But, Mason, that _is_ what this is. I mean, partially."

As she spoke, the Whisperers removed the tarp with a savage flourish.

The pool was filled with walkers, who splashed and groaned in the water, spurred into movement by the removal of the canvas.

Mason veins iced over.

"No. Alpha, please-"

"Shut up, Mason. I told you I'd let you beg, but now's not the time. Have a little fucking dignity."

Eugene and Sasha were prodded right to the edge of the pool, though they resisted every step of the way. Mason jerked sluggishly against her chains, but the Whisperers held her fast.

" _Just stop this_!" she snarled.

" _I. Fucking. Can't,_ " Alpha hissed, her face inches from Mason's, her eyes wild. "You just don't fucking get it, do you? These people, these pussies you feel you have to protect- they are dragging you down. They're like a goddamn ball and chain, and you _could_ be free. You could be so much _more_ , fucking christ... _Y_ _ou were the Reaper_! But instead you chose to shackle yourself to these wastes, drunk off that lie you were selling yourself, pretending you could live some cutesy, mundane life."

Alpha drew back, signaling to the Whisperers holding Mason. They adjusted Mason's chains- preparing to release her, she realized.

"Today is all about that," Alpha continued. "Today is all about showing you how much of a burden these people really are, and how it's going to get you killed."

Then Alpha snapped her fingers, and Mason barely had time to scream or think or breathe before Eugene and Sasha were thrown into the pool.

In the same moment, the chains fell slack around her.

"Better move fast, Mace," Alpha taunted. "Even if they aren't devoured, they'll sure as shit drown."

Mason stumbled forward. But- but she couldn't just jump in without a plan- both of them on opposite ends, the whole pool writhing with the dead-

But she couldn't just stand there, either, dithering over a plan-

Half a second had passed. _Fucking think_! she urged herself.

Sasha... Sasha's side of the pool was less infested than Eugene's, as if- as if they'd chosen to throw him in the deadlier end. And Sasha was lighter, could move about more freely, could evade the walkers more effectively while Mason did what she needed to do.

Ignoring the guilt, ignoring the anguish of having to choose at all, Mason lurched forward and plunged into the water.

Everything was a confusion of muffled snarls and writhing shadows. At first Mason couldn't see anything but walkers- every ounce of her that wasn't focused on searching for Eugene was invested in dodging them. But finally, through the murky turbulence, she spotted him, surrounded by the dead at the bottom of the pool.

Mason dove quickly for him, but it felt as though it took an eternity, fighting to get past the walkers, fighting against the swirling water, fighting just to get her drunken limbs to move.

Finally, her fingers snagged in his shirt but the walkers followed her, converging. They grabbed at Eugene's legs, his arms, and Eugene could do little more than thrash in a vain attempt to shake them off. They grabbed at Mason, too, pulling at her hair, her clothes. She pulled herself toward Eugene, shielding his body with her own while beating at the rallying mass with her feet and fists.

Her lungs burned. The effort it took to repel the dead was hastening her pulse, decaying precious oxygen. Linking her arms through Eugene's, she kicked out, propelling herself up from the floor of the pool. There were walkers above, walkers below, walkers everywhere. And her brain was slamming haphazardly against her skull, and her stomach was churning, churning, churning, and she needed air, she needed to breathe, her lungs were _bursting_ -

She shoved Eugene out of the water first, but a moment later she surfaced as well, and heaved a shuddering gasp. There was no time for relief, she knew. Heart thundering, she lifted him up over the lip of the pool, which took a hideous amount of effort. Because Eugene could offer very little help, and the rocks weighed him down, and the walkers were relentless; half of her time was spent merely fending them off.

But finally, she rolled him onto solid ground and, snatching a quick breath, dove back beneath the surface.

She wasted no time, making a beeline straight through the dead to Sasha's side. The water was murkier than ever, roiling with dark stains of blood, and Mason's heart constricted until she spotted Sasha. She'd been backed into a corner, and though she'd managed to hold the walkers at bay, she was rapidly losing ground.

Mason fought her way through them, tossing them to the side, pummeling them with as much force as her sloppy, waterlogged limbs could manage. One well-aimed kick had the bottom half of a walker's jaw spinning away into the dark water.

When Mason reached Sasha, she covered her body with her own, exactly as she'd done with Eugene's. Her arms looped through Sasha's, her legs bunching as she prepared to catapult herself off the floor.

Walkers latched onto her as she launched upward. Teeth snagged in her hair, eager for her skull, her neck. Fingers dug in around her waist. Gritting her teeth, she kept squirming toward the surface.

She was allowed one single breath before a new weight dragged her back under. She felt, quick distinctly, a set of teeth lock around her shoe. Trying desperately to keep herself angled between Sasha and the walkers, Mason whirled, slamming her back against the pool wall. The walker clamped around her waist, fingers digging in enough to be painful, finally loosened its grip. Another similar blow had its spine cracking. Its nails dragged at her shirt as it sunk to the bottom of the pool.

Teeth still gnawed doggedly on her shoe. Head spinning, she snapped her foot up, smashing it against the walker's nose. She was quick to take advantage of her momentary freedom, shoving Sasha again toward the surface. Walkers swarmed them like a school of piranhas and Mason thrashed in their center, holding them at bay but only by inches.

And the world was wheeling, and her lungs were _screaming_ , it almost felt as though they were tearing seam by seam, bleeding, and-

And suddenly there was air. She gulped it in, greedy for it, even as her body worked to heave Sasha out of the pool. It took less effort than it had with Eugene, but it was still a struggle; by the time Sasha was safely out of the water, Mason felt utterly ragged. Her arms trembled as she lifted herself out of the water, kicking halfheartedly at the walkers snapping at her heels.

For a moment she crouched next to Sasha, guzzling the air and mentally inventorying her body for injuries. She knew it was a distinct possibility she'd been bitten, that she hadn't noticed in the chaos and adrenaline, but all she could think was, _They're safe, they're safe, they're safe._

Alpha, standing on the other side of the pool, threw back her head and laughed.

" _Fuck. Me._ You put on a _fucking_ good show, Mace. Spectacular!"

At the sound of her voice, fury lashed through Mason's veins.

Soaked and shivering, her clothes hanging from her body in heavy rumples, Mason hauled herself to her feet. She whipped her head in Alpha's direction and began to stride toward her, tripping a bit over her sodden clothes. But the world...the world was twisting and coiling like a tipsy snake, and halfway there, her rising nausea clenched a fist around her stomach.

She stumbled, very nearly collapsing as she doubled over to vomit.

"So what have we learned today, Mason- anything?" Alpha asked over her violent retching.

After a moment, Mason shuddered, wiping at her mouth. A good majority of whiskey had emptied itself from her stomach, and she felt significantly better. Still drunk, but less like a sea swell.

Slipping a bit in the water, she straightened and flung herself at Alpha, spraying droplets like a sprinkler. Alpha was ready for her, but Mason was fueled by her bloodlust; if she'd been sober, she might've had an edge over the bitch.

But abruptly, in the middle of their fight, the breath was driven from Mason. There was a stinging tug in her stomach, and the telltale warmth of blood as it soaked her shirt. Alpha's punch had been well-placed, tearing open her stitches.

Eugene was roaring like a caged animal, pulling uselessly at the chains the Whisperers had once again cinched around him.

Alpha whirled, throwing him a wild grin. It had never been more apparent how unhinged, how psychotic she was.

Eugene didn't flinch from it, however, his own face contorted with wrath.

"Take that gag out, would you guys? I wanna hear what that look means."

One of the Whisperers yanked the wad of cloth from Eugene's mouth and Eugene...straining forward, livid as a winter flame...his expression sent a chill up Mason's spine.

" _LEAVE HER ALONE!"_

Alpha seemed delighted.

"Oh, you wanna play, Chemist?" She motioned to her Whisperers. "Let me have him. He and I are gonna have a little powwow in the foyer."

Mason's lungs shriveled with alarm. She staggered forward, ignoring the trickle of blood down her abdomen.

"No, _no_ , leave him-"

Three Whisperers grabbed her, one of them by her throat, effectively cutting off her pleas. She kicked her legs, trying to free herself even as she choked. But they wrapped the chains around her arms, dragging her back past Eugene, who Alpha and another set of Whisperers was wrenching away.

He snarled, trying to reach for her.

" _Leave her be_!"

"Well, you two are just too _sweet_ ," Alpha sneered. "Don't worry, Reaper, I'll bring him back. Maybe in pieces."

Mason let out a strangled wail, that Whisperer still clutching her throat. Her vision was already starting to fade, the absence of air burning her worn lungs.

"Get Murph and his crew over here. She'll need her stitches changed out."

Black dots swam over Mason's vision. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Alpha clutching Eugene's chains in her delicate, murderous hands, leading him out of the room.

 **Alpha**

There was not a doubt in her mind. If Eugene got loose, if he was able to get his hands on her, he was going to kill her. She doubted very much, however, that he would be escaping, chained as he was to one of the ridiculous ornate pillars in the foyer.

She smiled. "Why are you mean-mugging right now? I really do just want to chat with you."

Eugene just stared at her, unblinking, his eyes glittering like a brutal winter sky. He might have looked pitiful, drenched as he was, if not for that chilling expression.

Alpha sat cross-legged in front of him. "Tell me about yourself, Eugene. I wanna know about the man who stole my Mace's heart."

His eyes narrowed, calculating. Admittedly, Alpha _was_ switching gears in an attempt to give him whiplash- casual questioning after such chaos, just to get him on uneven footing, but...it surprised her that she was also genuinely curious. It occurred to her that whatever he told her, she could utilize as some kind of weapon, something at which to aim a psychological knife, but... She did truly want to know about him.

"Tell me about your family," she pressed. "What was your mom like?"

His expression didn't change as he answered, "She was a bitch."

A jolt of wicked delight. "Oh, you- I _like_ you."

"You shouldn't," he replied. "Mason and I are going to kill you."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

He sounded so _assured_ , like he'd seen into the fucking future...

Careful to keep the irritation from her voice, she purred, "Maybe I'd be more inclined to believe you if you both weren't prisoners of mine."

"We were prisoners in the Sanctuary as well. And we burned that bitch to the ground."

"You really think I'm as stupid as that shit-for-brains?"

"Negan was not unintelligent, he was blinded by arrogance. All things being equal, I think you and he share a lot in common."

Alpha went still. "You're walking some very thin ice, Chemist."

"You're the one who wanted to talk. I am simply indulging you."

"I want your head on a pike. _I'm_ indulging _you._ "

He managed a shrug, chains clinking. "Perspective, I suppose."

She'd played enough mind games to know he was trying to get under her skin.

She just wasn't expecting him to be so good at it.

She tried not to focus on this and instead on what kind of emotional baggage she might pry out of him.

"Tell me how your mother was a bitch," she said. "Mine was a Stepford wife of the highest order. She whored me out to potential suitors and then she murdered my father. Among other things."

Something dimmed a little in Eugene's eyes. "My mother killed my father, too. In a sense."

"You're shitting me."

"This isn't something to bond over."

"I don't know. Us traumatized kids gotta stick together, right?"

In her mind, unbidden, she saw Mason's face, the utter anguish when she'd seen her friends' decapitated heads. The image was so abrupt it startled her. She tried to shake it away.

Eugene's eyes flashed back to hers, sharp as knives.

"We are _all_ traumatized kids these days. _You are nothing special._ You entitled piece of shit..."

" _Entitled_?" She laughed roughly. "None of this was handed to me."

"I'm sure it wasn't. I'm sure you took it by utilizing the same infantile mind games and overinflated sense of individuality you are attempting to employ now. Did you assume that you were privileged simply because you are ruthless enough for this world? The rest of us get along just fine with our empathy and we are far stronger than you will ever be because of it."

She pictured Mason's eyes filling with tears, that spark of vengeance they just couldn't quell-

" _Sentimental sheep_ ," Alpha hissed. "You didn't take the Sanctuary through empathy. You took it through brutality. That's the language of the world. It always has been, it's just that now everyone is either fluent or dead."

"No," Eugene said. "Mercy for the lost. Vengeance for the plunderers."

The sign that had hung over the gates to Alexandria. Alpha recognized it with disgust.

"Your bullshit slogan?"

"I didn't think it up."

"Oh, like I really-"

"Mason did." His gaze was penetrating. "That's who she is, Alpha. _That_ is the language of the world. She speaks it better than anyone."

Something sharp twisted in her gut. Mason crying, spinning out drunkenly, racing for the pool... Alpha clenched her teeth.

"She is the Reaper. She may have forgotten it living with you gutless shits for so long, but _that_ is who she is."

Eugene cocked his head. "Why did you give Mason the gun?"

The question brought her up short. Out of the corner of her eye, silhouettes were flickering in and out of existence. She shook her head impatiently.

"What?"

"I saw your face. You truly did not believe she would pull the trigger. But if she is the Reaper as you say, then you should have expected that. You should have counted on it. If she had meekly handed it over, bent to your will the way she used to before she saw you as you really are, then she would have been no better than the rest of us, right? Just another sheep? Your logic is conflicting."

"That's not-"

"Or- did you expect the Reaper to be your own personal weapon?"

The silhouettes were converging, whispering...

Mason diving into the water, unconcerned with her own well-being, unconcerned with anything except- except-

"I _made_ her!" Alpha snarled, in an attempt to drown out the sound. "She is who she is because of me!"

Eugene huffed a cold, humorless laugh. "You didn't make her, Alpha. You don't have that kind of power."

Quicker than lightning, she snatched a knife from her belt and held it to his throat.

"I could kill you right now. Is that power enough for you?" The voices, the voices... "Maybe I'll give your head to Mason as an early Christmas present."

"You didn't think she'd pull the trigger because you were hoping she was still in love with you."

Her spine went rigid. Eugene's eyes gleamed.

"That's it, isn't it? You were fighting so hard to convince yourself of this truth, even though deep down you knew it to be false- you certainly weren't convinced enough to load the gun. And, yes, I fully and emphatically understand the statement you were trying to make. It was cute- an empty gun for the ones we gave you. We all see what you were going for. Very clever."

 _She never loved you. Not really. You tricked her into caring about you._

Her mother's voice came soft as a drifting feather, and hit her like a collapsing mountain.

"But that wasn't really the truth you were trying validate, was it?" Eugene continued. Frigid. Ruthless. "Because the truth is, she _is_ the Reaper. It is just that the Reaper is not what you had in mind, is she? She is far better and far stronger than you intended and now you have no idea what to do, because she won't be tamed this time. She will not be a pair of teeth you can summon whenever you wish. She is not your custom-constructed attack dog, she is a wolf. Truer than your Wolves. Truer than you. And you can't _stand_ that."

Mason diving into the water, unconcerned with anything except- except-

Her family.

 _She never loved you._

 _She never loved you._

" _Shut up_!"

She didn't mean to scream, didn't mean to show her hand like that. But everything was happening all at once, everything was too close and too loud, she wanted everything to shut the fuck up and burn, she wanted silence and ash.

But Eugene wasn't going to give her that. He was a bulldog, worrying her throat between his teeth.

"Now you are aware it's too late to kid yourself," he said. "You thought Mason was the key. You thought she would turn her teeth on the world and show her belly to you, but you trapped yourself in this idealization. You thought she would fix everything. You, your circumstance...the voices."

Alpha flinched. His sly tone infuriated her. His words cut her viciously.

And dancing around her- shadows, congealing into figures...

 _Don't kill him. Not yet. Mason needs to see it._

It was the only thing that kept her from digging her knife in. Even so, her hand trembled with the urge.

Eugene held her gaze and cocked his head. Daring her.

Slowly, teetering second by second on the edge of losing all control, she sheathed her knife. Then she seized him by the chin. Breathing tremulously. Breathing fire.

"Before all this is over," she said, "I am going to kill you. I am going to do it slowly, and you are going to beg me, and Mason is going to beg me, and you are going to linger long enough to regret every second of your worthless fucking life."

Eugene smiled coldly. "Is that so?"

"It is. No plan that that analytical brain of yours can come up with will be enough to save you. I have wanted to bleed you out for a long time, Chemist. I'm getting what I want this time."

He shrugged. "Perspective."

She slapped him, hard enough to make her hand sting, hard enough that her bones rattled. She hit him again, and again, and again, until his face was swollen and bleeding. She couldn't kill him, not yet, but she needed to purge her aggression somehow.

But he never made a sound. And his eyes never lost their insolent, predatory glitter.

And it... _unnerved_ her.

And that just pissed her the fuck off.

God, she wanted to kill him.

But not yet. Not yet.

 **Eugene**

He glanced up as a man and a woman trailed into the foyer, flanked by Nick and Alpha. The strangers were speaking to each other in Spanish, to which Nick would occasionally reply.

Alpha scowled at Nick. "What the fuck did I say about speaking English?"

"Hey, it takes a while to teach that shit. They're not gonna be fluent right off. Maybe you could learn a little Spanish."

Eugene perked up a bit, mind racing.

"You know, you're really pissing me off here lately," Alpha growled.

"I'm sorry," Nick said, sounding anything but. "I guess in between manufacturing drugs for you and helping you take an innocent woman away from her loved ones, I just didn't have the time to lead a language seminar."

Alpha shoved him up against the pillar next to Eugene's. "You wanna come right out and say what you wanna say, Nick? I'm all ears."

He remained silent, his face tense and unreadable. She snorted and let him go.

"That's right. You don't say shit with your ass on the line. Whenever things get a little too real, you run. Fucking pussy."

She stepped back, turning to glare at the strangers without sparing Eugene so much as a glance.

"Clean him up, then bring everyone back to the compound. I'm tired of this shit for today and I need to check on our buddies at the beach house." Alpha waved a hand in Nick's direction. "Go on and translate for them. Apparently that's all you're good for."

Once she was gone, Nick rattled off what she'd said in Spanish and the strangers set to work. Eugene held still while the two tended to his wounds.

"She really did a number on you, huh?" Nick murmured after a while.

"Nothing like what she wanted to do, I am quite positive."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

The woman huffed a sigh and said to no one in particular, " _Esa perra lo está perdiendo_." _That bitch is losing it._

" _Ella ha estado por un tiempo_ ," the man replied. _She has been for a while._

Eugene nodded. " _Ella es de hecho más loca que una rata de mierda_." _She is indeed crazier than a shit house rat._

Nick and the strangers looked at his, brows arching. Eugene smiled a little.

" _Uh, chicos, podrían darnos un minuto_?" Nick said after a moment. The strangers nodded, regarding Eugene now with wary curiosity. They wandered some distance away, muttering to themselves.

Nick peered at Eugene. " _Asi que hablas Espanol_." _So you speak Spanish._

" _Sí,_ _soy bastante fluido_." _Yes, I am quite fluent._

Nick grinned. " _Eso la enojará aún más_." _That's gonna piss her off even more._

" _Por muy agradable que sea, espero no revelar este hecho de inmediato._ _Aun así, supongo que ni siquiera puede decir cuchara en Español._ " _Enjoyable as that will be, I am hoping not to reveal this fact right off. Still, I'm guessing she can't even say "spoon" in Spanish._

" _Ni una palabra_." _Not a word._

" _Así que_... _hipotéticamente podríamos analizar cualquier tema sin temor a que ella escuche_." _So_... _hypothetically we could chew the cud on any topic without fear of her eavesdropping._

Warily, Nick narrowed his eyes. " _Hipotéticamente_." _Hypothetically._

There was a beat of tense silence, Nick and Eugene feeling each other out. But Eugene had seen the way Nick had treated Mason. He'd witnessed Nick lie to Alpha about the bullet bracelet. There likely weren't many they'd be able to trust in Alpha's domain circle, but...maybe Nick...

Eugene stared him down.

" _¿Cuántos caminantes has matado?_ "

 _How many walkers have you killed?_

Nick blinked, confused by the change in questioning. But he answered, " _No me molesto en seguir rastro_." _I don't bother keeping track anymore._

Eugene nodded.

" _¿Cuántas personas has matado?_ "

 _How many people have you killed?_

Nick's expression darkened. He hesitated only a second, before answering, " _Tres_."

" _¿Por qué?_ "

 _Why?_

And there was not an ounce of guile, nothing but bleak honesty, when Nick replied, " _Porque no había otra manera_." _Because there was no other way._

After a moment, Eugene's lips stretched in a grim smile.

" _¿Qué le dirías a un hipotético destronamiento de la reina?_ "

 _What would you say to a hypothetical dethroning of the queen?_


	29. Adeline

Okay, guys, so: this chapter is long and dark and chaotic. There is a trigger warning for almost-rape- nothing graphic and I kept it brief, but I still wanted ya'll to be aware. The chapter song is "Adeline" by alt-J, and if you haven't heard it, it is fantastic- melancholy, desperate, eerie. Perfect for this chapter. Also, within the chapter, I reference a song called "Unsteady" by X Ambassadors- another great one, very, very sad. Thank you guys SO MUCH for your reviews and support, it means so much to me. I hope ya'll enjoy (? idk if that's the right word but yeah lol) this one, please let me know what you think!

29\. Adeline

 **Mason**

The room was finally empty. Mason had a feeling the Whisperers were standing guard outside the closed door, but for once she and Sasha were afforded a little privacy. Her abdomen ached where Murph had put in fresh stitches. Her head pounded- still drunk but blossoming into a hangover. She tried not to focus on Eugene's absence, but it was killing her, it was pinching her lungs, she was bleeding out not knowing if he was okay-

 _He's okay._ Beth's voice was a gentle wisp. _Just keep breathin'._

 _Easier said than done, sunshine._

Still, she found herself trying. There was no way to be certain, of course- that was what had its teeth in her so deep- but she had a feeling that Alpha wouldn't do anything to Eugene without Mason there to witness it.

 _She won't,_ Merle said. _She's all about drama, that nutso cunt._

And they were just voices in her throbbing head, of course, just delusions, but...she believed them all the same.

"Sasha," she murmured. "I...I'm sorry."

Sasha twisted to give her a look that translated roughly into _the fuck_?

"Why?"

"Back there, with the pool, I- I had to choose. Which of you to get first. I chose Eugene because his side was more infested, and I knew you'd be able to maneuver better."

Sasha shook her head, a small, exasperated smile on her face. "Okay."

"I just, I- I didn't want you to think it was, like, favoritism or something. I was trying to be as analytical as possible, but-"

"Mason." Sasha rolled her eyes. "It's okay. I know you were handling things the best way you could."

 _My best is pretty shitty_ , she thought. Out loud she said, "I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess."

"You didn't," Sasha said sharply. The way she eyed Mason then- firmly, but shadowed, like there was something else on her mind... "Shit happens, Mason. You're in charge now. You don't have the luxury of guilt anymore, not until we're done."

In her head, Abraham chuckled. _That's my girl._

Mason took a deep, deliberate breath and nodded. "I know. I just needed _you_ to know."

Sasha was quiet for a moment, but the tension emanating from her was enough to put Mason on edge. Clearly whatever was on her mind, it wasn't something she was eager to talk about.

Swallowing her unease, Mason whispered, "This place seems like it has a simple enough layout. I know we haven't seen all of it, but from what we have it looks like it's basically just a box. Admittedly, I don't know _much_ about breweries but...there's usually a separate section designated for each part of the process. So that's...about nine different sections?"

Sasha raised an eyebrow. Mason flushed a bit.

"I'm- I'm a beer snob. Anyway, this is the fermentation room, which is one of the later steps in the process. The sixth I think? This place is set up a little weird for a brewery- or a brewpub for that matter- but I'd say we'll probably have an easier time trying to get to that back exit than the front. Through the filling room. There should be a loading dock through there."

"You're starting to sound like Eugene with all this random knowledge."

In spite of their situation, in spite of the utter mess Mason was inside, in spite of _everything_ , she offered Sasha a grin.

"Well, thank you kindly, ma'am, I do indeed find that to be a compliment of the highest order. While I may not draw from a well of knowledge as deep as his, it is my hope that my own will play a sufficient reinforcement to our escape. I assure you, I will make everything hunky dunky again."

Sasha laughed so hard she snorted, which had Mason cracking up, too.

"That's frightening, Mason. Grow a foot and a mullet and you could _be_ him."

"Why do I need an extra foot? Like, I already have two? I could use another ear, though."

The joke was so lame and they were so tired, so broken and raw, that their laughter became uncontrollable. It may have been edged with hysteria, but it felt good all the same. A welcome release, however temporary.

Eventually, when they were able to reign in their giggles, Sasha sighed. A smile lingered on her face, but it turned sad as Mason watched.

"Mason," she said. "There's something...I need to tell _you_. Because I don't know how long it's gonna be before we're able to go home and..." She broke off, closing her eyes as though bracing herself, and Mason felt a stone settle heavily in her stomach.

"What's wrong?"

"You need to promise me you're not going to let this get to you. You can't."

"Sasha-"

"I mean it, Mason. Promise me. Right now."

"I don't want to promise anything when I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Please."

Sasha's voice was sharp, but...on the verge of breaking. Mason frowned.

"Okay, I...I promise."

Sasha glanced at her then, but as she was opening her mouth to speak, the door opened and in walked Eugene, surrounded by Whisperers. The relief that flooded Mason at the sight of him was tempered by rage; his face was bruised and swollen, his bottom lip broken open.

That fucking bitch.

She'd laid hands on him. Again. She'd _hurt_ him again. Mason's bones creaked under the suffocating weight of her fire.

She glared as the Whisperers began unchaining her and Sasha. "Where are you taking us now?"

"Alpha has decided she wants to showcase the experimentation," one of them said.

"What the fuck kind of experimentation?"

No one felt the need to answer her that time. She exchanged a tense glance with Eugene and Sasha before a Whisperer lifted her to her feet. She tried not to let on that her legs were trembling; she was so exhausted, her clothes still uncomfortably wet. Ezekiel's feather was still miraculously braided in her hair, though it clung stickily to her neck.

Once again they were led out of the room, up the hall toward the front of the brewery. They were ushered into a room that had once been spacious but was now taken up completely by hospital beds and a whole medley of medical equipment. It wasn't the same room where Murph had changed out her stitches, though it was clearly an infirmary of sorts. Every bed was occupied. The people in them were varying degrees of sick and dying. Mason couldn't help staring as nurses scurried about, extracting blood samples, changing bed sheets, taking temperatures.

Alpha was running a hospital? It didn't fit. She was obviously getting something from it, but what the hell that could possibly be evaded Mason.

Alpha herself was leaning against the wall at the back of the room, watching Murph record a patient's blood pressure, watching Nick wipe something from a patient's face.

To wipe blood from his hemorrhaging eyes.

Immediately Mason went cold, her muscles going rigid with fear. No. No, not again-

At that point, Alpha spotted her prisoners. She flashed her teeth at them in what might have been a grin or a snarl.

"Today's a busy, busy day," she said, flouncing toward them. "How's that hangover treating you, Mace? I know you puked some of it out but Nick's got some kickass painkillers if you need 'em."

 _Don't show your fear,_ Mason told herself. _Don't show weakness._

"You didn't drag us down here for painkillers," she growled.

"You're such a smart little bunny. No, I absolutely did not." With a flourish, she gestured to Murph, who looked at them all rather nervously. "This friend of mine is a hematologist. Or he was, you know, Before. He is also a borderline genius and I've been helping him crack the code on this Infection business."

"Well...we haven't cracked it just yet, but we're very, very close," Murph explained, wringing his spindly hands. "These things take time- a lot more of it now that there are no research centers."

Mason blinked. It felt like there was a wall between what they were saying and her brain. She couldn't absorb it.

"You're close...to cracking the code on the Infection," she repeated flatly.

Murph's eyes were wide and earnest.

"We're close," he said, "to a possible cure."

"There is no cure," Eugene growled coolly.

"Oh, but- but there is!" Murph insisted, lighting up like a kid at Christmas. "Or rather, there _could_ be, and just the possibility of that is far more than we all anticipated. It's quite complex- honestly, I've never seen anything like it. But then, I'd never seen corpses reanimate and start eating the living before, either."

"And it all hinges," Alpha said, eyes gleaming, "on a flu virus. On one very specific flu virus."

Foreboding prickled along Mason's spine. She'd been too alarmed to put two and two together before, but-

The flu virus.

The one she'd had twice now.

The one _Sasha_ had had twice now.

Mason backed up- or at least tried to, chained as she was- in an attempt to shield Sasha; Eugene did his best to edge in front of both of them. The Whisperers holding them smiled in cruel amusement.

"Does that answer your question, Sasha?" Alpha drawled. "Why I brought you here?"

"You don't need her," Mason growled. "I had the exact same thing. You want a guinea pig, use me."

"How many times are we going to have to go over this? I'm not letting them go. Not until I get what I want from them."

"What do you want?" Sasha demanded.

It was Murph who answered, with the good sense to look a bit uncomfortable. "I just need some of your blood."

"But you'll be free to use whatever the hell you want, whatever you need," Alpha assured him.

"The fuck he will," Mason snarled. The chains clinked as she jerked against them.

"What are you gonna do, Mace? You're on a leash."

"I fucking told you. Use my body, I don't give a shit. But touch my friends again and I will beat you into the fucking ground."

"Ooh, _backbone_ , bunny. It'd probably seem more threatening if you had any choice in the matter. Right now it's just cute."

"Why don't you eat my whole entire _ass_? I'm not letting you experiment on my family for some _bullshit_ cure."

"Much as I'd like to take you up on that offer..." Alpha smirked. "It's not bullshit. Here. I'll show you."

Without another word, she pulled the knife from her belt and stabbed it through the throat of the nearest patient.

A shock ran through Mason. There was a chorus of gasps from some of the nurses, though nobody made a move to stop Alpha, not even Murph, who looked as though he wanted to. The patient began thrashing, but Alpha held him down and slowly, slowly, dragged her knife through his neck. He choked, blood spraying, but Alpha kept a hand pressed to his chest until his body went limp.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sasha said. "I thought this was about a cure."

"It is," Alpha answered. "If you'll notice, I've left his brain intact. We're gonna wait for him to change and he's not going to because he's been- ta-da!- cured."

"You didn't have to do that," Nick said tightly, his face pale as he stared at the corpse.

"He was dying anyway. And I'm impatient."

"They've- been infected," Murph explained. "All of them, with the flu virus _and_ the resurrection virus, the- the cold body virus. This keeps them from turning when they die. Although there are several-"

"I didn't bring them to listen to all your boring details," Alpha interrupted and Murph immediately shut up. "The gist of it is, Murph is running out of sickies. You two survived this flu- which has a very low survival rate, according to our resident mad scientist here. And he needs your blood. So you're going to give it to him. Not just because I literally have your asses shackled up right now, but because I could very well let Murph turn Sasha into a dissection if I wanted to."

Mason glared at her, at Murph and Nick, at the body, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. She had a feeling Alpha was leaving things muddy on purpose, to keep her on uneven footing, to force her into the wrong choice-

After a moment, Alpha shrugged. "Alright. Strap Sasha to a bed. You can-"

" _No_."

Everyone paused, examining Mason's expression, which was thunderous. She speared her gaze into Alpha's.

"Our blood. That's it."

Alpha grinned. "Thanks for playing along, bunny."

So Mason and Sasha let them draw their samples, though Mason seethed the whole time. Her willpower was stretched to fraying simply taming her bloodlust; by the time they were done she felt horribly unsteady, a sensation exacerbated by the hangover and the missing blood. The Whisperers didn't meet much resistance leading them back to the fermentation room. Even if she'd wanted to fight, she likely would have fallen on her ass.

They brought the patient's body with them, tying it to one of the support beams in the middle of the room so Mason, Sasha and Eugene could "watch in real time the miracle of the cure". Even though it was chained up just like them, Mason couldn't help feeling a prickle of misgiving.

"I'll be back in a little while, Mace," Alpha said, apparently amused by the whole thing. "I know it's been a long day but bear with me. I'll have a little something for you by the end of it."

The door shut. Mason sagged against her fermentation tank.

"Are you okay?" she whispered to Eugene.

"Fit as a fiddle, ma'am," he replied, and for some reason the sound of his voice made her want to cry. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Fiddlier than fit."

"What the hell was the point of all that?" Sasha said. "Why go through the trouble of dragging us down there just to drag us back again? They could have just taken our blood here, it would have been easier."

"Chaos," Mason said. Even the effort of speaking was exhausting. "It's like...like Negan and the cell. Wearing us down, except Alpha favors the more anarchic method. She doesn't want us to figure out what her next move is gonna be. She doesn't want us to know what _our_ next move should be. But she does want us to know what they _could_ be doing to us, tying us to beds and chopping us open and letting us bleed to death."

"She already has enough leverage," Sasha said. "She has our people surrounded."

"She's not satisfied until every little bit of power is hers. If there is even an ounce of defiance in us...she'll want to kill it."

"There is not a doubt in my mind that you are absolutely correct, May," Eugene murmured. "But there is the possibility that we have an ally in all this."

Sasha blinked in disbelief. Mason frowned.

"Who?"

"Nick. We conversed briefly _en Español_ and he revealed to me that he is less-than-content in his present role."

"And you just...believed him?" Sasha shook her head. "Look, for all we know, there are more than a few here that are _less than content_ , but that doesn't mean they'd be willing to break us out."

But Mason was remembering how Nick had looked at her, the gentle way he'd searched her, how he'd seen the bullet bracelet and said nothing to Alpha. She examined Eugene's face.

"What convinced you?"

"I asked him the Questions," he said. "His answers were candid, up to snuff. It is my belief he is simply up to his ears in shit he didn't intend to be."

Mason eyed him evenly. "I trust you."

"What does he even have to offer?" Sasha asked, ever the pragmatist. "How is he going to help us?"

"He is going to keep me updated as he figures that out, but he has access to quite a few things that could aid us- drugs, chemicals. No guns. Their ammo is next to nothing- less for us, but also less for them. So that is something."

"Pretty small something."

"We work with what we have, we adapt. Besides... _we_ have ammo. Not a lot. Twelve rounds. But enough to make it count."

When Sasha looked confused, Mason said, "My bracelet."

"And..." Sasha smiled just a little. "There's a gun under one of these tanks."

Mason winked. "Yes, ma'am, I told you: hunky dunky."

~m~

When Alpha returned, the corpse across from them still hadn't turned. There was no way to tell how long it had been but Mason was assuming several hours. Of course, she'd seen walkers take a while to turn but more often than not they were pretty quick about it. She couldn't help thinking, over and over again, of what they'd been told in that fucked up infirmary. It was impossible that there was a cure, impossible that Alpha's mad scientist was on the verge of figuring it out. And yet that body...

"Hasn't changed yet, huh?" Alpha said. " _Weird_. I've been timing it, by the way. Five hours and counting."

She pulled a flask from her belt and wiggled it in Mason's direction.

"By the way, I brought you a little hair of the dog. Well, I suppose not _technically_ \- it's moonshine, not whiskey. Brewed it myself and-" She took a sip, shuddered and smacked her lips. "It ain't bad."

She brought the flask over to Mason, who glared over the rim of it.

"How about some food instead?" she suggested tightly. "We haven't eaten in a while."

Filling her belly would definitely take the edge off the hangover. Sleep, too- which she supposed she could've been doing the past few hours. But they'd been so caught up, discussing possible plans and variations thereof, that they hadn't given much thought to anything else.

"I'll bring you something later, if you're good." Alpha pressed the flask to Mason's lips.

Mason clenched her jaw tight enough to hurt. "I don't suppose I have a choice in the matter."

"Quick little rabbit."

Mason took a sip, wincing at the burn, the way it went down like a knife. She took another sip and spluttered.

Alpha nodded. "Yeah, it'll put lead in your pencil. Drink up, though. I want you nice and sloshed for this."

"Why?" Mason coughed.

"Because of your stage fright, bunny. I know how self-conscious you can get."

Another game. Mason's mind raced, looking for a way out, a way to stay sober. She tried to fake drinking the moonshine, but Alpha swished the flask and tsked.

"I want this bitch _empty_ , or I'll drain one of them," she said, pointing to Eugene and Sasha.

Briefly, Mason remembered the pact she'd made with Daryl in the cell. That they would not be used as blackmail by Negan, that if he threatened to kill either of them to get the other to comply, they would simply let him. But...it wasn't the same. Not now. She was responsible for them, she couldn't allow them to die. If anything, _she_ would be dying for them.

So she drank. Even though it tasted like straight turpentine. Even though she could feel her body turning useless again, her brain fuzzy. Only when the flask was empty did Alpha step back, allowing two Whisperers to take her place. They released Mason from her chains and pushed her into the middle of the room, ignoring Eugene and Sasha's protests. She stumbled, catching herself on hands and knees. Alpha stared down at her, arms crossed over her chest, infuriatingly smug.

"Man. I almost forgot how much I love seeing you shitfaced."

"Fuck you," Mason panted. The room spun. Her heart was heavy and sluggish in her chest.

"Oh, that'll come later, bunny."

And Alpha curled her lips in a gruesome expression of lust. Mason shivered.

"But right now...right now, I want you to sing."

Mason blinked. "Sing?"

"That's right. Don't you remember, whenever I was upset you would sing to me? You were always doing sweet little things like that."

She did remember that, but...the memories were tainted. She sang for Eugene now, she sang for her family. The notion of singing for this bitch twisted her stomach.

"Why?"

"Because I've missed it. Can't I just want to hear your pretty voice?" Alpha spoke like honey, gooey and sweet. But she paused, and her face crumpled just slightly. Just enough to take Mason off guard.

"You know...after we were...separated," she continued, and Mason flinched. "I had trouble sleeping. I kept seeing those men- those bastards. What they did, do you remember? I kept reliving that. Every night. I tried to imagine you were there, singing me to sleep, but it just...wasn't the same. I have wanted that every night since then. Just to hear you."

That night...that night, she could still picture it vividly-

The old familiar guilt welled up, but Eugene spoke up suddenly from behind her.

"Mind games, May," he growled.

In a blink, the guilt was gone.

Mind games. Right. She was emotional from the alcohol and Alpha was just _tugging_ on those emotions, cutting open old wounds and salting them-

Before Mason could react, Alpha cocked her hand back and flung the flask straight at Eugene. It smacked him in the face before clattering across the floor.

" _Hey_!"

Mason hauled herself up and took a swing at Alpha, but her movements were lumbering. Like the liquor had solidified in her veins, weighing them down.

Alpha sidestepped easily and pitched her elbow into Mason's ribs. Mason doubled over from the force of the impact, but the pain came several heartbeats later, a high, radiating sting. In these few, quick seconds, Alpha swept her legs out from under her and sent her again to her knees.

She felt the crack of the cement against her bones but it didn't hurt as much as it might have. She realized belatedly that it was the moonshine dulling her pain, which might have been good news if it wasn't dulling everything else, too.

Well, except her emotions. Those were peaked like the sharpest blades.

Dizzily, she shook her head. "Don't...fucking...touch him."

Quick as lightning, Alpha drew a knife from her belt and put it to Mason's throat.

"Sing for me and I won't."

Mason swallowed, feeling the tip of the blade lance her skin. Distantly she realized that there were tears running down her face.

"What do you want me to sing?" she asked quietly.

"That is a good question, hmm... Oh, _I_ know! How about the one you sang your mother, huh? You know, right before you shot her in the head?"

All the color drained from Mason's face. Alpha's eyes glittered triumphantly.

"Your first kill, remember? She was bitten, of course, but she hadn't turned yet. That's what made it so hard, right? She was still your mom when you did it."

 _There_ was the pain, right there in her heart.

Her mom was the very first person Mason had ever killed. A mercy killing. She'd been bitten twice fighting off walkers- her thigh and her stomach, both of which had been ravaged as though put through a meat processor.

And her mom... Her mom had known what was happening. She was a nurse, and very, very smart. Smart enough to know what it would do to Mason, having to kill her.

Smart enough to know that Mason wouldn't have wanted anyone else to do it. Not even her mom. Especially not her.

"I love you, baby bug," her mom had said, touching a hand to Mason's cheek. There was blood on it. Mason could remember feeling as though she would never wash it from her face.

Both of them had been trembling, crying, Mason leaning over her paling body, sprawled on the floor in this broken way she couldn't bear looking at. Alpha had been keeping watch at the windows, her face emotionless as stone. Back then, Mason had yearned to be so heartless.

"Mom," she had sobbed. "Please."

But her mom had just pressed the gun into her hand. Patted her cheek.

"You're so strong, Mason. I'm so proud of you." Her lips had trembled then, which had brought on a fresh wave of tears from Mason. "Don't let this break you, okay? Don't let it. I love you so much and you're going to make it. You're my little miracle. Now-"

Gently, she had guided the gun to her head and Mason had wanted to let go, she'd wanted to never hold a fucking gun again in her life. But her fingers had stayed wrapped around its hideous weight.

"When you're ready," her mom had said, "aim right there. It'll be...it'll be quickest. Remember to squeeze the trigger, don't pull it."

"Mom-"

"Sing for me." Her mom had closed her eyes. "I want that to be the last thing I hear."

It had been a struggle, fighting the tears long enough to sing anything. But she'd managed, for her mom, who had smiled and calmed at the sound of her voice, thick and broken though it was.

And when the song was over, Mason had squeezed the trigger, just like her mom had taught her.

"I want you to sing that song," Alpha said now. "I mean, it's special, right? It made your mom feel better, and that's what I want."

Half-trembling, trying to keep her voice steady, Mason said, "Would you like me to shoot you afterwards, too?"

There was a pause, in which she was sure the whole room could hear her pulse beating, loud and hot, beneath her skin.

Finally, Alpha hissed, " _Funny_ , bunny. Your mom was funny, too. She could always make a really bad joke seem hilarious, remember the one she always told about the bear that walked into the bar?"

"Stop."

"How would your mom feel about you drinking so much? She never kept booze in the house so you always had to get it from me."

" _Stop_."

"Do you think she would approve in your choice of soulmate? Pity she'll never get to meet him."

" _Shut up_!"

" _Then sing_!"

Alpha grabbed a fistful of Mason's hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat further. The knife cut her taut skin like butter. A runner of blood trickled down to her chest.

Mason screwed her eyes shut. Her teeth clenched at the brush of Alpha's nose against hers.

When Alpha's voice came again, it was loathsome and soft.

"Sing, Reaper."

Lips trembling, Mason obeyed.

The lyrics burned coming out, like singing lightning. She'd listened to this song since singing it for her mom, she'd even sung it once for Eugene, and each time hearing it, she'd expected the pain. But this time-

This time it was agony.

She wasn't just seeing her mom.

She was seeing Rick, bleeding out beneath her, placing the gun in her hands.

She was seeing Dray and Charlie and Ashlee, their heads on pikes.

She was seeing every failure, every loss, like a web tangling her.

Her voice filled the room, eerie and fractured and somehow beautiful because of it. Yet the shame of being on her knees, of being drunk, of being so goddamn _weak_ -

She wanted to sink into the floor. As Alpha no doubt intended.

"I remember how hard you cried that day," Alpha whispered, her breath warm on Mason's face. "You wanted to stay in that house with her body. It took me forever to convince you to leave."

Mason shuddered but kept singing.

"Stop, Alpha."

Eugene.

"Why? Don't you think she has a pretty voice? I bet she sings you to sleep now, the sweetheart."

"You're a coward. You aren't willing to face her unless she's drunk or in chains. You're a spineless piece of shit."

Mason faltered, alarmed.

Alpha threw a look of blackest hate at Eugene.

"I'd be careful of the accusations I threw around if I were you, you goddamn hypocrite- _keep_ singing, Mason."

"I do think it's hilarious that she acts like this untouchable god, but still feels the need to hide behind all these tricks," Sasha joined in.

Alpha huffed a laugh. "I had a chance to kill you, Sasha, you and Eugene both. It's because of my mercy that you're still breathing at all."

"Is it? Eugene held his own against you before. Almost _killed_ you. That doesn't sound untouchable to me."

"The Chemist only survived because of his own tricks. Oh, and also, you know, because I wanted him alive. _Keep. Singing. Mason._ "

"All I see are bullshit histrionics. Why don't you even the playing field, huh? Face one of us, right now, no tricks."

Mason's breathing stopped.

"No-"

Alpha swiped the knife away from her throat and shoved Mason's already unbalanced frame backward; she collapsed into the arms of a waiting Whisperer.

"Alright. Let's," Alpha said, pointing the knife at Sasha. " _You_ haven't had a chance to fight me yet. Why don't you step into the ring?"

Mason and Eugene started protesting but Sasha merely nodded, lips thin. There was a faint sheen of sweat on her face, and she still looked pale from giving blood, but there was nothing but unyielding will in her eyes.

The second Whisperer unchained Sasha and forced her to her feet; Mason struggled against her own but it was no use.

"I'll give you a minute to get the feeling back in your arms," Alpha said. "No tricks, right?"

"That means no knives," Sasha said. "Unless you're gonna give me one, too."

"Nah. Just a good old fashioned brawl."

Alpha handed her knife to Mason's Whisperer, who casually held it to Mason's throat. A few minutes passed before Alpha clapped her hands together.

"Alright, then. Even playing field. Show me what you got."

And then she was lunging, all fire, all force. She nearly took Sasha off her feet right then and there. But Sasha recovered quickly, muscles bunching as she parried Alpha's blows. Mason watched, barely daring to breathe. Sasha was steadfast and strong, but Alpha...Alpha was a storm, a wildfire. She intended to eat everything in her path.

Sasha's hand was coming to grip the back of Alpha's head, perhaps to pull it down and knee her in the face, when Alpha twisted, elbowing Sasha in the side.

She doubled over with a cry, clutching at her waist. Alpha stepped back, confused by such a reaction.

The confusion turned to shock when blood began leaking through Sasha's fingers.

"What the fuck-?"

Before Sasha could recover, Alpha strode forward, shoved her hands away and lifted up her shirt.

To reveal the bite.

Mason's heart stopped. The whole room was quiet for a moment, and Sasha, panting, dripping sweat, turned to give Mason an apologetic grimace.

"You were bit?" Alpha said. A wild flame was blooming in her eyes. "Well, then, that's it. You have no choice now. I'm disappointed we won't be able to finish this, but it's an early Christmas present for Murph."

Alpha and the other Whisperer seized Sasha and began dragging her away. Mason lurched in their direction.

"No, wait!"

"She's been bitten, Mason," Alpha said. "You know how that shit goes down. Now would you rather she just die and turn like the rest of these dogs, or would you rather take the chance the cure might work with her?"

"I'm coming...I'm coming with you-" Mason rasped, fresh tears warming her cheeks. Sasha watched her, tired and sad. Eugene was rigid on the floor, his face a mask of anguish.

Alpha smiled cruelly and shook her head. "There's no reason for that."

"I've had the flu-"

"Murph already took your blood-"

" _I've had it twice_!"

Alpha hesitated.

"Twice? You survived that shit _twice_?"

Mason nodded. Despite the bite, despite what that meant, she was unwilling to reveal the same about Sasha.

"Shit. Murph's gonna have some questions for _you_. Come on."

~m~

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Mason was sitting on the floor next to Sasha's bed, her back against the wall, her voice small and choked with tears. After running through a thorough questionnaire with Murph about the nature of her sickness- the symptoms, how long it had lasted, and on and on and on- he and Alpha had left them for a moment. There were Whisperers standing guard nearby, though there wasn't much point; Sasha was chained to the bed and Mason felt as flimsy as wet paper.

"I tried, remember?" Sasha replied.

"Yeah, but...you could've told us back when- you know, after she brought Eugene back." No way was she mentioning the plans they'd been hatching, even if most of them were sketchy at best. "You had _hours_ -"

"Look, I know but...it wouldn't have made a difference. You know that. And I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd do this."

"Do what?"

"Blame yourself. I can hear it in your voice. It's bullshit."

But it wasn't bullshit, no matter what Sasha said. If Mason had jumped into the pool after her, if she'd rescued Sasha first... But then, Eugene might've been bit. Her mind turned in circles like this, over and over.

"Mason, it happened..." Sasha sighed. "It happened right after they threw me in. Even if you'd swam for me first, it wouldn't have made a difference. Shit just...played out how it played out."

Mason let out a shuddering breath. "I should've _made_ it play out differently, I should've... God, I'm so _sick of this_."

"Me, too."

Clumsily, Mason scrambled to her feet. Her skull was absolutely pounding from the moonshine, the lack of sleep, hunger, stress. She swayed a bit as she leaned over Sasha's bed.

"I know I'm in charge now," she murmured. "I know I can't let guilt get in the way of what I have to do. But I'm still- so fucking sorry. And I don't- I don't care if it doesn't make a difference, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_ -"

Sobs cut her off. She pressed her forehead to Sasha's and Sasha closed her eyes, lips trembling.

"I know." She was silent for a moment before she said, "But hey, maybe this cure isn't bullshit after all. Maybe it will really work."

And the optimism, so out of character...

 _Only for me,_ Mason realized. _She's doing it for me._

Which hurt even more.

But.

Maybe...

Maybe there really _was_ a cure. The man tied up in the fermentation room still hadn't changed, at least as far as she knew. And no one had seemed shocked or doubtful of Murph's declaration so...maybe they'd seen this almost-cure in action...

Against her better judgment, Mason found herself hoping.

Before Murph had sat her down to question her, he'd injected Sasha with the blood of someone infected with the flu virus.

"We are going to keep her here under observation and perform a number of- of treatments," he'd said. Treatments, not experiments, although Mason knew that's exactly what they were.

"Okay," she'd growled, doing her best not to slur. "But if you _hurt_ her, I will strap you into one of these beds and run a refresher course on all the bones in the human body by breaking _yours_."

It couldn't have come across as threatening as she'd intended, but he'd quivered anyway, stammering out what might have been an affirmative before launching into his questions.

Now...now there was nothing left but to wait.

"Yeah." Mason nodded, and it was as much for Sasha's benefit as for her own when she said, "Maybe there really is a cure."

~m~

She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she jolted awake. She thought at first that she'd been returned to the fermentation room, but...no. She wasn't in the infirmary either, though that was where she'd dozed off, leaning against the wall next to Sasha's bed.

She was in a bed of her own, however, or at least on a mattress. The room itself was fairly small; the desk behind her, serving as some sort of makeshift headboard, convinced her that it must have been an office.

But her hands...

They were handcuffed to the desk.

Mason jerked her arms but her wrists were bound tight.

The mattress bounced a bit. When she looked up, Alpha was perched next to her.

Mason's throat tightened. The walls begin to close in around them.

"I was gonna wake you sooner, but Murph said you needed some shut-eye," Alpha said. "By the way..."

She leaned over to skim a hand over the shaved part of Mason's head.

"This is really fucking awesome. You know I love a good, expressive hairstyle. Plus... _fuck_ , you look sexy-"

"What are you doing?"

Mason's voice was tight, small. She could barely get the words out, the way the air was just _squeezing_ thinner and thinner...

"Well, partly I wanted to keep my promise. Your people have actually lasted _longer_ than twenty-four hours, so hats off to them, and actually I intended for you to plead their case during your beautiful performance earlier. Of course, then Sasha had to stick her nose in and blah, blah, blah. But also I just...wanted some alone time with you. Fucking finally, right?"

She ran a finger up Mason's thigh.

Mason's lungs shriveled.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

"Aw, c'mon, bunny. I know shit's been kinda fucked lately. You and I ended up on opposite sides, and I _know_ you have your loyalties, but... What we had before all this, Mason-"

"That wasn't real. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, now _let me_ _go_ -"

" _No_. I just got you back. We just got each other back. Give me a chance."

She leaned down, pressing her lips to Mason's collarbone, the pulse point in her neck. Mason kicked her legs, which hadn't been restrained, and bucked in an attempt to throw Alpha off.

" _Get the fuck off me_!"

"Hey, hey, hey."

Alpha grabbed Mason's throat. Her slender fingers clamped like a vise grip.

"I said give me a fucking chance, Mace," she purred. "C'mon. It's been a long day. Let me take your mind off of it. Let me remind you how I made you feel."

But all she could remember was someone else's hands on her, someone else's lips trying to _claim_ her, the smell of cinnamon and smoke, making her kneel, pressing her into a different mattress-

After a moment, Alpha let go of Mason's throat and went back to kissing her, sucking roughly at her skin, teeth grazing-

Mason trembled beneath her, tears flowing silently down her face. Her thoughts reeled, fighting through the panic, searching for a way out-

Alpha nudged her legs apart. Her hands slid beneath Mason's shirt.

Those hands. Those hands that had murdered and abused-

Mason's breaths came quick and frantic, a sound which Alpha apparently mistook for lust. She hummed in approval, and Mason shuddered, stomach turning, at the feel of her tongue-

She couldn't take it. She couldn't let her do this.

" _Stop. Please_ ," she rasped.

Alpha paused. Disapproval flickered in her eyes.

"Is this about the Chemist?" she demanded. "Don't tell me he's a better fuck than I am. No way in _hell_ he eats pussy like me."

"Please, just- let me go..."

"That's not the kind of begging I'm after, Mason." Her lips returned to Mason's stomach. "Don't you remember how I used to make you _scream_? You couldn't get enough back then."

Mason squirmed, shaking her head furiously, pulling uselessly at the handcuffs. She had to get out, she had to get out, she had to-

"Beg, Mason."

Mason blinked, caught off guard by the change of tone. Alpha stared down at her. Those green eyes still gleamed with desire, but they were harder. Colder.

"W-what?"

"This is your chance. I told you I'd give you one."

Alpha curled her fingers around the waistband of Mason's shorts.

" _Beg_. I used to make you beg every time. Now I want you to beg for your people. _Beg_ for their pointless lives, Reaper. Beg me to spare them."

Her people. Her people.

Abraham had said...had said there was nothing she could offer. Eugene had said as much, too. But maybe there was. Maybe she'd been right from the start.

There was nothing she wouldn't try, nothing she wouldn't give, to save her people.

Not even her body.

Very carefully, she folded away her emotions, folded up her panic and disgust and shame, and stowed them in that cage in her chest.

"Please, Alpha," she whispered. "Spare my people."

Alpha grinned. "Keep that up, Mace. _Convince_ me."

Mason didn't struggle as Alpha removed her shorts, her underwear. She didn't struggle at all. She kept her gaze carefully focused on the ceiling overhead while her lips moved, making shapes she only recognized distantly.

She begged.

" _Please._ Let them live, let them go. You don't need to hurt them. Please, _please_ , leave them alone."

She put her mind somewhere else, the same way she had when Negan touched her. She knew she was falling away from herself, her own desperation pushing her over the edge she'd been teetering on since Alpha had fired that shot into her stomach. Everything was too much but her feelings were irrelevant.

Her people. Her family. She would do this for them, and if this didn't work she would do something else, and she would claw and fight and burn until they were safe again.

But after a while, Alpha stopped.

Slowly, Mason looked at her, spooling her frayed edges back into herself.

"What is it?" she rasped. Her voice was someone else's.

Alpha blinked at her. Shook her head.

"You really don't want this. Want...me."

 _Of course not, you murderous fuckstick! You psychotic shit-sucking trash hag!_

But Mason couldn't put her thoughts to words. She was still floating somewhere outside her own body.

Alpha stared at her a moment longer, her face storming with emotions that whirled too quickly for Mason to place. But finally, as though something snapped inside her, she leapt off the mattress and plucked a key off the table. Without a word, she freed Mason from the cuffs.

Mason was too shocked to feel relieved. Alpha's expression was something dark, something she'd never seen before. Something that put her nerves on razors.

"Get dressed," Alpha said. There were none of those turbulent emotions apparent in her voice. It was void, a frigid wasteland.

Mason reached for her clothes, never tearing her gaze from Alpha's face.

"My family-"

"Shut up."

"You said you'd let me beg for them."

"I said I'd give you the chance. Right now I just want you to shut the fuck up, or I swear to god I'll give the order to slaughter them all."

Then, lips twitching in a snarl, she kicked Mason in the head, knocking everything to black.

 **Alpha**

It was not what she had expected.

It was not what she had dreamed of for so long.

She'd counted on Mason to resist at first, that much was expected, that much was _inevitable,_ but...

The look on her face when Alpha had touched her.

That dead, faraway gaze, like she'd gone on autopilot, like she'd siphoned herself away for safekeeping...

Her pleas for her people had been real. She had meant every word. But they'd been the _only_ real thing about her.

Seeing that look had solidified it.

Mason was not in love with her. Her mother hadn't been lying after all.

And Eugene. Eugene, that smug bastard, he'd been right.

 _You were hoping she was still in love with you._

 _You didn't make her, Alpha. You don't have that kind of power._

She'd had enough power to put that look on Mason's face, that detachment. But-

She'd only surrendered to Alpha for her family. If their lives weren't hanging in the balance, if it was just her and Alpha...

 _I do think it's hilarious that she acts like this untouchable god, but still feels the need to hide behind all these tricks._

Alpha clenched her teeth.

Bitch, worthless _bitch_ , worthless _FUCKING BITCH._

Her nails drew manic lines up and down her arms till her skin was red and raw. Ghosts danced around her- her mother, Feral, Beta- taunting and whispering. There was an anchor on her lungs, sinking her beneath the surface of their voices.

She shook, furious and falling apart, teeth scraping till her jaw ached.

"Fuck this."

 **Mason**

For two days, there was not a sign of Alpha, and while this allowed Mason and Eugene some time to rest, they were not relieved. They spent whatever free time they weren't already using to strategize on theorizing why she was staying away. That she was upset with Mason was obvious (when she'd told Eugene what Alpha had done, he'd been so far _beyond_ livid...it had taken him hours to return to any semblance of calm). Offended, pissed off, hurt- whatever the fuck it was, it equaled out to the same thing.

Nick was their saving grace. He kept them updated on Sasha's condition as well as the Whisperers' movements and the stalemate with Mason's people (no change, although the fear now was that they would run out of food and water). However, there was little information that he could provide about Alpha and whatever she was planning.

"She's been keeping to her room most of the time," he'd reported. "She only ever talks to Murph, and only rarely."

Their plans to escape were solidifying, although frustratingly the one roadblock was going to be Alpha herself.

"If she wasn't around, it would be a different story," Nick had said. "But most of these people, the ones who dress up in dead skins, they're loyal to her. Like, in a really unbalanced way. Crazy attracts crazy. And those who aren't have family here that would suffer if they resisted. They'd stop us before we ever got within range of an exit."

"There's no way to sneak around them?" Eugene had asked. "Or dispatch those on patrol?"

"They're _all_ on patrol. There isn't an official guard, they just...watch. They hang around outside, in the halls. Why do you think it takes so much effort for me to even pop in on you guys? Half the time I have to make up lies just to get in here."

"Okay, what about my bracelet?" Mason had asked.

"How many rounds?"

"Twelve."

Nick had sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. But like I said, they're all devoted to their nutcase queen, they'd be on us like ants. You'd have to really make those twelve shots count."

Not to mention the walkers Nick said would be waiting for them outside. Although they themselves wouldn't pose too much of an issue, if the Whisperers were among them, too...

"Well, do you want to carry them?" Mason had offered. "That way you'd have a gun loaded and ready in case-"

"No. No one's carrying guns right now. The Whisperers on the beach have what little bullets are left, so Alpha said there's no point. I'd stick out. Besides, I- I'm not the best aim. I'm sure either of you two are better."

"What about poisoning?" Eugene had asked. "Lethal overdose in Alpha's food?"

"She doesn't let anyone else prepare her meals. She only eats out of sealed containers and she checks everything. If anything's dubious she feeds it to one of us. I told you, she's long overdue for a breakdown. And before you ask, no, I'm not gonna try to poison the other Whisperers either. There's not a way to poison any significant amount of them without also poisoning innocents."

"Fuck, just... Stab the bitch in the back," Mason had muttered.

She'd meant it mostly as a joke, but Nick had sighed again and answered, "If she ever left her room, maybe I could attempt it, but..."

Their eyes had met, and she'd nodded.

"She's always ready."

"Especially around me. I don't think she's ever trusted me fully- if she ever trusts anyone. But I think I've mouthed off enough that I've burned that bridge. I'd have to be, like, tediously sneaky and we just don't have the time for that."

Mason had tried not to let that put her in a panic, but they _were_ running out of time. Soon her people would be forced to fight, surrender or starve.

Sasha was another variable in all this. Her condition had worsened. She still remained relatively strong considering, but the flu was taking its toll, similar to the effects of the bite, although...

Just like Alpha had said, the patient she'd killed hadn't changed. His body had rotted in the fermentation room until the Whisperers had taken it away, but he hadn't resurrected. And Sasha...Sasha had survived the bite for two and a half days. Whatever this almost-cure was, Mason no longer doubted its validity. Whether or not Sasha was going to get better...

"No one has so far," Nick had confessed reluctantly. "There were a few occasions where we thought a patient might pull through, but so far there's been no miraculous breakthrough." Seeing the looks on Mason and Eugene's faces, he'd added, "Uh, but, that doesn't mean it's not going to happen. Murph seems convinced. He may be loony like the rest, but he's really smart."

They'd left it at that. Sasha was still alive even after being bitten. That was enough for now to keep Mason hopeful.

"The other patients," she'd asked. "Most of them- I mean, they don't seem crazy."

"Most of them aren't," Nick had replied. "Just desperate. We lured them all in- the sickies with promises of treatment, the junkies with promises of...of a drug."

"A drug that you manufacture?" Eugene had inquired.

"Locus coeruleus."

Though this hadn't meant anything to Mason, Eugene's eyes had lit up in surprise and understanding.

"I can only assume...for adrenaline?"

"You assume correct. Once its oxidized, it's some pretty potent stuff. I mean, I make other shit, too, but most people like the nuclei. It's gnarly, you know? Anyway, in exchange for drugs they let us experiment on them. The others, if they're sick with the flu or if they're bitten or _whatever_ , there's different variables...they come here, they bring their families here. They look the other way because they want to get better, or because they know their loved ones will pay the price if they don't. Not everyone here is crazy."

"No, but I confess I am not comforted by this revelation." Eugene's voice had been grim. "Desperation can make someone do crazy things."

Nick hadn't had an argument for that.

These meetings with Nick were limited; usually there were other Whisperers about. Fortunately, if there was something Nick had to report, he could just casually mutter it in Spanish and Eugene could translate it later, when he and Mason were alone. Apparently Alpha wasn't the only one who hadn't bothered to learn a second language.

But in between these short, snatched meetings with Nick, she and Eugene had nothing else to do except wait. They had not been allowed to visit Sasha. They were unchained from their tanks only to piss and return blood flow to their arms. Meals were rare and meager.

"Keeping us weak," Mason had murmured on the second night, after the Whisperers had fed them a dinner of stale jerky.

"But alive," Eugene had replied, and it had been enough to cover her in goosebumps. They both knew she wasn't keeping them alive out of mercy.

Nick, of course, tried to sneak them food whenever he was able to see them, though he couldn't afford to smuggle too much.

It was on the third morning, when Nick dropped in with a quick breakfast of jam and toast, that something changed. Mason noticed immediately Nick's expression- manic with fear and anticipation.

"What's wrong?" she asked, instantly breathless.

"I don't know what's going on, at least not exactly," he said, holding the toast to their mouths so they could eat. "But something's changed with your people. I don't know if they've started fighting again or what, but the Whisperers are readying to send more people down there."

Mason nearly choked on her toast.

" _No_. Fuck, Nick, you have to get us out, we have to fucking get _out_ -"

"I know. I'll help you, I promise. But when I do, it all has to be super fucking quick, okay? The second they realize what we're doing, our options are gonna be..."

He trailed off, brushing his hand past his head like that was all the explanation he could offer.

Though Mason's stomach felt leaden, Nick forced her and Eugene to eat the rest of their breakfast, reminding them that they'd need all the strength they could get if they hoped to break out. She obeyed, though it felt more like swallowing ash.

Nick left the moment they were done, hurrying out of the room with the promise that he'd come get them as soon as everything was ready. Mason wondered what "everything" might be. Though they'd circled around plan after plan, they'd never settled on a specific one. She turned to Eugene, about to initiate their game of "best theory", but before she could speak the door opened again.

Alpha strode in, followed by four Whisperers, who headed straight for Mason and Eugene.

"What's going on?" Mason demanded, glaring as the Whisperers unchained them and yanked them to their feet.

No one answered her at first. Alpha gestured lazily to two support beams.

"These'll do. I want them facing each other," she said.

" _Hey_!" Mason struggled as they were led forward. "What the fuck is this?"

Alpha turned then, and the look in her eyes...

Mason's blood ran cold.

Serial killers in court rooms had looked more benevolent.

"Hello, bunny," she said, her voice twisting over the old pet name. "Sorry I haven't been in to see you for a while. Can't break you all at once, can I? That wouldn't be fun."

Mason and Eugene were each tied to a support beam, just a few feet apart. So Mason could see clearly the fear in Eugene's eyes- not for himself, but for her. Just as she was sure he could see the fear in her for him.

Once they were properly bound, Alpha clapped her hand. "Alright! Strip 'em down."

Mason jolted. "What?"

No one felt the need to explain this, either, but the Whisperers converged on her and Eugene, holding them steady while they cut off their clothes with scissors. They made quick work of it, leaving Eugene in his boxers and Mason in her bra and underwear. She shivered, staring at him desperately, but...

By some stroke of fortune, a strip of fabric from her shirt, caught in the chains around her wrist, obscured the bullet bracelet. She couldn't help feeling relieved, just for a moment, by this utter dumb luck.

"Thanks, guys," Alpha said to her Whisperers. "Go on and step outside, I can take it from here."

"Holler if you need us," one of them said- Windham, Mason thought, by his voice. Her suspicions were confirmed when he "accidentally" kicked her leg on the way out.

When the door closed behind them, Alpha glanced back and forth between her prisoners, a grin sharpening her features.

"Look at all those _scars_!" she said. "Man, Mason, you've really done a number on yourself. It's like a running tally of all your mental breakdowns..."

"What. Is. This?" Mason demanded.

"Well, you know, I've always thought it was just too damn _cute_ that you two have matching scars on opposite arms. My people gave you those, right? Actually- _I_ gave you that one _personally_ , didn't I, Eugene? Ah, memories."

"That is correct, Alpha," Eugene replied. His eyes glittered mutinously, like he just couldn't help himself. "You gave me that scar right before I gave you those burns. Huh. _Memories_."

Alpha's smile never faltered, but her gaze became predatory.

"Yeah, we had fun, didn't we."

"Yes, indeed. That there was one for the scrapbooks."

They eyed each other for a moment, and the pure _hate_ that crackled between them... It flooded Mason with foreboding. She opened her mouth- to say what, she wasn't sure- but Alpha swept on before she got the chance to figure it out.

"Well, since you two are so _connected_ , I thought why not complete the image?" She pulled her knife from her belt and pointed it at Eugene. "For every scar you have, I will give the same one to Mason. And, Mason, for every scar you have- intentional or otherwise- I'll give the same one to Eugene. Jesus, he really got the short end of the stick on this one... By the time I'm done, you lovebirds will be two matching maps."

Mason's stomach turned sickly. "No. Alpha, don't do this-"

"Shut up. You had your chance to beg. Besides, I've been waiting for this for literal _years_. I'm fresh out of patience."

Alpha twirled her knife, malice blazing behind those emerald eyes.

"I think I'll start with you, Mace."

"Alpha," Eugene snapped. "Enough."

" _Super_ hilarious, you ordering me around like you have any say in this."

Suddenly she whirled, and Mason gasped at a bright shock of pain in her cheek. Blood ran down her neck to her chest, warming the swell of her breasts. Alpha bared her teeth.

"Now we got the ball rolling," she declared. Then she peered at the scar on Eugene's cheek, the one he'd gotten in the Wolf attack. "You think hers is long enough, though? I want them to be as close as possible."

" _Stop this_!" Eugene snarled.

"Wait your turn, Chemist."

Alpha prowled around him, cataloging every wound.

"Ooh, _there's_ a good one."

She returned to Mason, knife gleaming as she brought it up to Mason's arm. She knew the scar Alpha was duplicating, a gunshot wound Eugene had gotten during Supernova, right before freeing Daryl from the Sanctuary. And it was insane, it was ridiculous, but...remembering that night, Mason almost wished they were back there. At least they'd had an edge in the War. They'd been triumphant.

 _This._

 _This_ was hell.

Mason gritted her teeth as Alpha dragged the knife slowly, so fucking slowly, through her skin.

"You're gonna look like the butcher block in my mom's kitchen," Alpha murmured. "Remember that thing? God, I fucking hated it. Course, that's where I killed her, you know. Carved her right up like a Christmas ham."

Mason hadn't seen it happen, but she remembered Alpha staggering out of her house, covered in blood and mumbling that the queen was dead, she was finally dead.

"She wasn't bit, though," Alpha continued, casually slicing another little line down Mason's shoulder blade. "I know that's what I told you, but I just figured you'd flip shit if I told you the truth. You'd just killed _your_ mom, after all."

"You just wanted her dead," Mason ground out. After everything, this news did not surprise her.

"That's right. She was an evil bitch and she deserved what she got."

"She was," Mason agreed. "And you're just like her."

She gasped as Alpha pressed the knife in deeper, scraping bone.

"You're about as stupid as your Chemist, pissing me off right now," Alpha hissed. "I am _not_ like her, I am _better_. Dumb cunt."

She emphasized this last by slashing open the top of Mason's left hand. Mason closed her eyes as if that could somehow block out the pain. She couldn't remember where Eugene had gotten that one...

 _C'mon, Nick, where are you?_

Alpha kept this up until Mason was crisscrossed with new wounds, ignoring Eugene's protests and threats. When she noticed the cigarette burn on his arm, however, she paused.

"Did you do that?" she asked. "You don't strike me as the self-harm type."

Eugene stared her down without answering, wrath limning his features.

"Or was it your bitch of a mother?" Alpha continued. "Was that why you hated her?"

When he remained silent, she sighed and strode for the door.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have any cigarettes on me, but I know Nick smokes." She leaned out into the hall to ask the Whisperers to find him, and in the brief moment it took to do this, Mason and Eugene shared a terrified glance.

If Nick wasn't ready, if they caught him making his preparations...

When Alpha returned, she was wiping the blood from her knife off on her shirt.

"While we're waiting for our resident junkie, I may as well get started on _you_ , Chemist-"

" _No_!" Mason said. "Don't cut him. Don't hurt him."

She knew it would do no good. Eugene had protested the whole time Alpha was cutting her. But she couldn't just sit quietly.

"I have to, Mace. I'm all out of scars to decorate you with, but look at _him_! A blank canvas compared to your splendor."

Ignoring Mason's pleas, Alpha put her knife to Eugene's skin.

He didn't make a sound as she began drawing the wounds, but his face screwed up in pain. Mason watched, anguished, as his body shuddered, his blood dripping down to the floor.

She began to cry when Alpha started cutting into his sides, his stomach.

The wounds Mason had inflicted on herself, the pain she'd intended solely _for herself_...

"How about this one, Mace?" Alpha dragged the tip of the blade across Eugene's thigh. "You remember this one?"

"Goddammit, _don't_!" Mason snarled.

But Alpha pulled the blade through his flesh, cutting deep. Eugene hissed through his teeth.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

"Fucking _stop_ ," Mason croaked.

But Eugene's eyes flickered to hers.

"May," he whispered, smiling tightly. "It's okay."

"No, it's fucking not," Alpha chuckled. "Don't you lie to her."

There was blood on her face, smeared on her hands and clothes. And Alpha was right; Eugene was absolutely _covered_ , runners of blood webbing his body like a gruesome lattice. Sweat dewed on his face, evidence of the pain he was trying to dismiss.

Alpha stepped back to examine him for a moment. "Look at you. You're a work of art now. But you're missing something... Or I guess, it would be more accurate to say that you're still in possession of something."

She pressed the knife to Eugene's ear.

" _NO_!" Mason shouted, lunging forward. The chains pinched, holding her back, but she strained against them anyway.

Alpha grinned, wild and unhinged. "No _what_ , Mace? Oh, I'm sorry, did I hit a nerve?"

" _Leave his ear, you cunt_!"

"Leave his ear, huh?" Alpha tapped the knife ponderously against her chin. "You know what? Fine. I'll give you a freebie. Don't say I never gave you anything."

Mason let out a ragged breath, casting a desperate glance at Eugene. He offered her a small, reassuring smile. Sweat dripped off the end of his nose.

"But you know...that leaves one last scar."

Mason stiffened.

"The final stroke on this masterpiece of mine."

Alpha tipped her knife in Mason's direction, pointing-

Pointing to her stomach. The stitches.

The blood drained from Mason's face.

"No," she whispered, the only sound she seemed able to make in that moment. She began to struggle again, pushing, _pushing_ forward, without ever moving an inch.

"Oh, don't worry, Mason, I'm not gonna shoot him," Alpha said. "Can't really shoot someone without bullets, now can you? But I think the knife will suffice."

"Don't- don't fucking do this-"

But Alpha was no longer listening. She turned back to Eugene, cupping one hand behind his head, stroking her fingers through his hair like she was trying to soothe him. He stared her down, his breathing uneven. There was nothing but uncompromising animosity in his eyes.

"I told you," she purred.

Mason dragged at her chains, fighting their steadfast embrace, breathless with panic. Her voice was hoarse, choked. Unrecognizable.

" _Don't do this don't do this-_ "

Alpha just pressed her forehead to Eugene's temple, smirking triumphantly.

"I told you I would bleed you out."

She drove the knife into his stomach.

Mason screamed, all of her strength trickling away for one terrible heartbeat. Eugene bent double as much as his chains would allow, and she couldn't see his face but she could see the blood leaking out of him, pooling on the floor-

Alpha huffed a laugh. "How's that for perspective, Chemist?"

Red tinted Mason's vision.

" _GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU BITCH GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM_!"

But Alpha just lifted Eugene's head, revealing the agony on his face.

"Look at your wife, Eugene. Look at her now and tell her everything's okay."

His eyes blinked open, welling with tears.

"May-"

Alpha twisted the knife and a new gush of deepest red showered the floor.

Eugene let out a cry before coughing out a mouthful of blood.

Mason wailed again, writhing furiously against her restraints.

Alpha yanked the knife out of Eugene. So much blood, there was so much blood, on the floor, on Eugene, on Alpha. God, her arms were absolutely _veiled_ in it, like she was wearing red gloves, and as Mason watched...

As Mason watched, Alpha licked a line up her arm, right through that blood, elbow to wrist.

Mason's stomach twisted, bile burning at the back of her throat, but there was too much fear to vomit, it had its teeth in her neck, her lungs, her heart-

The door opened but she didn't care, barely noticed. She couldn't look away from Eugene, couldn't stop fighting in vain to get to him. Sobs shook her whole body, terror quivering along her bones.

Eugene, Eugene, Eugene-

"Alpha, there's been an issue-"

" _What the fuck are you doing_?"

Distantly, on some other plane of existence, she recognized Nick's voice.

Too late, he was too late, the whole fucking world was coming down around them-

"Cool it with the hysterics, Nick. You bring me those cigarettes like I asked?"

"What the fuck are you _doing_?"

"Gutting this little piggie for dinner. Now give me the fucking cigarettes."

"Alpha, there's-"

" _Shut_ the fuck up for a second, I'm trying to savor this moment."

" _Alpha._ The sheep escaped the beach. They're coming here."

It was the only thing that could reach Mason.

Her people.

Her people were coming here.

They could free them, they could help Eugene-

Eugene, who was slouched against the support beam, his face already so pale...

Alpha blinked. "Jesus, they are persistent... Oh, don't fucking look at me like that, are you really worried? They're coming _here_ , with enemies in front and enemies behind? Good luck to them."

Mason sensed the Whisperers' unease, but she didn't look up to witness it. Eugene was starting to shiver, chains clinking with the uncontrollable shudders. He was still bleeding, dripping with it, the red standing out starkly against his paling skin.

" _Eugene_ ," she wept. "Look at me, baby, look at me."

Quivering, he obeyed, but she could tell by the distance in his eyes that his vision was fading.

"You have to stay awake, okay? Stay with me."

From far away, she realized that Alpha had seized her arm, that she'd lit one of Nick's cigarettes and had it poised above Mason's skin.

She didn't give a shit. There was only Eugene, there was only keeping him alive, that was all that mattered-

"Stay with me, baby, okay? I'm right here."

Alpha pressed the cigarette to Mason's arm but the pain was inconsequential. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick inch closer.

"There," Alpha said, flicking the cigarette across the floor. "Now you two are totally in sync."

Eugene stirred, his eyes so heavy-lidded they were barely open as he turned in Nick's direction.

" _Cualq_..." he panted. " _Cualquier arma_? _Cualquiera en absoluto_?"

Alpha blinked in disbelief. Nick's eyes narrowed slightly.

" _Sí_."

Eugene coughed another mouthful of blood and said, " _Ahora es nuestra única oportunidad_."

Whatever he said, it was a signal.

Nick pulled a crowbar from where he'd tucked into his belt and swung it at Alpha. She dodged at the last minute, and though the blow missed her head, it struck her in the shoulder, knocking her off balance.

A chorus of shouts erupted from the Whisperers. A group of them rushed to intercept Nick, but a man and a woman Mason recognized as nurses swept in from behind, wielding their own weapons.

Suddenly, everything was chaos. Alpha lunged for Nick, snarling, and they disappeared into the fray. In the same moment, a pattering of gunshots sounded from outside.

But despite the noise, Eugene's eyes closed. His head slumped forward like he was falling asleep...

" _EUGENE_!" Mason screamed.

More gunshots, inside the building now. In a heartbeat the hallways became an uproar, people racing back and forth past the open door. There was a flash of red as Alpha flitted out of the room. Her Whisperers were quick to follow, although there were only three of them left- Nick and the nurses had killed the other three.

Nick slammed the door shut and then whirled, hurrying for Eugene. He pressed his hands to the stomach wound, knocked his head lightly against Eugene's, trying to rouse him. The nurses freed him and Mason from their chains, but Eugene merely sagged forward. He would have crumpled to the floor if Nick hadn't caught him.

There was not a word for the fear she felt in that moment, the utter, nameless terror. It didn't feel real.

She sobbed, crawling toward him on hands and knees. Her fingers slid in blood.

" _Is he alive is he alive god Nick is he alive_?"

Nick kept his gaze fixed on Eugene's face. "He is, but we need to go _now_. Your people are coming in through the loading dock. You need to clear us a path."

Mason scrambled to her feet, her heart like furious thunder.

The gun, the gun-

It still lay hidden beneath the fermentation tank. She retrieved it and yanked off her bracelet, releasing the bullets into her quivering palm. Yet despite her panic, she loaded the magazine in record time.

"Alright, c'mon," she said, leading the way to the door. Nick and the nurses followed closely, carrying Eugene between them.

When she opened the door, chaos greeted her, a skirmish of people rushing past. Mason held her gun up and stepped into the hall.

The Whisperers tried to stop them, swarmed them, just as Nick had said. But Mason plowed ahead, tossing them aside, using her gun when she needed to, her concentration narrowed to her single mission.

Then suddenly, Sasha appeared in front of them, stumbling and drenched in sweat but wielding a metal rod like a baseball bat. There were several nurses surrounding her, fighting at her side, and when they spotted Mason they arrowed toward them.

At the sight of Eugene, however, Sasha staggered.

"What happened?" she demanded, but Mason didn't have the time or the breath to explain. They were almost there, they were almost to the back exit, and up ahead-

Up ahead she spotted Michonne and Carol and Tanner, fighting furiously to keep the exit clear.

Mason fell back to cover the others as they carried Eugene to the door. Her people must have spread out, she realized, because she could still see Whisperers racing to defend the front of the building.

She didn't stay behind for long, although the urge to shoot every one of them down, to tear them all limb from fucking limb, nearly suffocated her. But as soon as Eugene and the others were safely outside, she ducked through the door after them.

More of her family was waiting outside, Maggie, Rosita, Jesus and Enid. They fell in to surround Eugene, weapons raised as they edged toward the woods.

" _Reaper_!"

Mason turned, gun raised, to find Alpha silhouetted on the loading dock.

Fire licked a path up Mason's spine. She took aim and pulled the trigger.

An empty click.

Out of bullets.

Mason ground her jaw, muscles tensing to launch herself back across the parking lot, toward that murderous hag-

" _Mason_!" Jesus hollered. "We need you!"

Whisperers were flocking to her group, cutting between them and their freedom.

Eugene needed out, he needed to get home-

Mason turned on her heel, and as she darted for her people she heard Alpha call once more.

" _Reaper_! I want to see you _bury him_!"

And then Mason was neck-deep in Whisperers, barreling through them, demolishing a path for her family to take. Her pulse throbbed, turning each moment into a blur, into disjointed rushes of agony.

But her heart was fire, her blood gasoline, as finally, _finally_ , they broke through and escaped into the woods.


	30. Emerge

Okay, guys, so. I just want to tell ya'll now: bear with me on this chapter. I know things have been, like, extremely grim so far, but we are approaching a very pivotal part in the story and just...bear with me (also, I'mma have a quick note at the end, so look out for that). Today's chapter song is "Emerge" by Ruelle, and seriously. Omg. It is INCREDIBLE. If you listen to it, listen to part one AND two back-to-back to get the full experience, I promise it's worth it. As always, a trillion thanks for your reviews and support, you guys are legit the coolest! Hope ya'll enjoy this one, I'm actually going to post the next chapter right after it, so...I hope ya'll enjoy that one, too. Let me know what you think!

30\. Emerge

 **Mason**

"Why the fuck are we stopping? We have to _move_!"

"We can't. Look, you see that up ahead?"

Mason peered through the trees, which glistened from an earlier rain, and tried to keep from trembling. Just beyond the woods, a crowd of Whisperers were standing along the cliff's edge, blocking the only path down to the beach. There were a good amount of them, and more pursuing them from the brewery, but-

"We can fight them," she breathed. "We can push through-"

"It would take more time than we can afford," Nick replied. "We barely got out alive, and we can't risk putting Eugene in the crossfire."

Mason cast a glance back behind her, where Renee and Rosita were taking the opportunity to bind Eugene's wound. Dave and Daryl sat next to him, murmuring soothing words she couldn't hear. Eugene, drifting in and out of consciousness, let out occasional whimpers of pain; she could tell by the strangled sound of them that he was trying to keep quiet.

Tears blurred her vision but her thoughts were clear and sharp as broken glass.

They had no bullets left, all of them used up in the stalemate or the breakout.

Enemies pursuing them from the brewery. Enemies ahead.

Walkers in the woods, converging, drawn by the sound and the smell of blood.

They couldn't go back; no way in fucking hell she was taking one step toward that brewery.

They couldn't go forward; Nick was right, they would risk too much trying to punch a hole through the Whisperers' ranks, and even if they managed it, it was likely they would have their enemies on their heels right up to the beach house.

They couldn't flee; even if they dodged the walkers, there was nowhere else nearby where they were guaranteed medical equipment.

They couldn't wait; Eugene was dying.

Eugene was dying.

All of this flashed through her head in a fraction of a second. Mason took a hard, shuddering breath, and the path became clear.

"I'll lead them away," she whispered.

" _What_?" Nick's eyes widened. "No, someone else can do it. Alpha wants _you_ , Mason. Now that Eugene's- now that she's gotten what she wants, it's only _you_ that's left."

But Mason just nodded. She'd known all this, and his reaction only cemented her resolve. That was how she'd known it was the right path.

And if she were being honest...if she were being honest, she wanted to face them alone. To see who emerged victorious.

"That's why it has to be me," she said. "They'll follow me. And besides-" She gave Nick a tight, lifeless smile. "I'm the fastest one here."

He opened his mouth, clearly wanting to argue more, but she scurried back to the rest of the group.

"Weapons," she hissed. "I need them, quick."

"What are you gonna do?" Carol asked, even as she and the others began riffling for any spare weaponry.

"I'm gonna lead them away. Clear the way for you guys to get Eugene to the infirmary."

"Who else?"

"Just me."

Michonne shook her head. "No, that's-"

"There's no fucking time to argue, and I wouldn't listen anyway. I-"

" _May_ -"

Eugene's blood-thick voice ran through her like lightning. She scrambled over to him so quickly she pulled a muscle.

"Eugene? Baby?" Her voice shook, her hands brushing lightly over him; there was not a place she could touch without smudging herself with blood. "I'm right here, okay?"

"Don't- don't go..." He coughed, spattering his waxen face with red. He reached blindly for her; she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.

"I have to," she murmured. Silently, Carol laid a pile of weapons at Mason's feet; Mason took only a knife and her fire poker.

"Take more," Carol said.

"No. You guys will need as many as you can carry."

"If they corner you, you're gonna need more than that."

" _May_ ," Eugene groaned. His lips were turning blue.

Mason kissed his forehead and stood. "I'm sorry. I'll be back, I promise. I love you."

Carol looked ready to argue further, but it was Carl who interrupted her, rushing over to Mason with Enid at his side.

"Take these," he said, and he and Enid shoved several plastic packages into Mason's hands. She recognized instantly what was inside- sodium nitrate.

She blinked, confused, heart racing. They were wasting precious seconds...

"I don't have any water."

"Yes, you do, Mason," Carl said earnestly. "It's all around you."

The breath caught in her throat. Her eyes flickered wildly, taking in the limbs and leaves, heavy and crystalline with raindrops.

"Carl, you're a fucking genius."

~m~

Her pulse thundered beneath her skin. She could feel it burning in every new wound on her body, most of which were covered by the oversized button-up shirt she wore. Tanner had given it to her before she'd left, and it was so big it hung down to her thighs.

She broke free of the trees, panting and sobbing, but skidded to a halt when she spotted the Whisperers.

They startled at the sight of her, reaching for their weapons. It did not take much effort to twist her expression into one of terror.

"N-no," she breathed. "Please-"

"It's her," one of them said. "Alpha's bitch."

Mason stumbled back, whimpering. "Leave me alone."

 _Take the bait._

She could see them drinking in her quivering frame, her tear-swollen face. The way she cowered from them...

 _Take the bait._

Another second and then they began prowling toward her.

She spun around and bounded back into the forest.

She moved fast, but not as fast as she was capable of. Just enough to keep herself in their sights. Her breathing was even, practiced, disciplined, her body falling effortlessly into the lithe endurance learned from years of running.

The walkers who had been roused by her people's movements turned instead to follow her. Though she dodged them easily, the blood mottling her head-to-toe was enough to keep them on her trail.

The Whisperers followed a few yards behind, hollering her name, taunting her. She gave her people, their hiding place, a wide berth, though she didn't slow once she'd passed it.

Further, further...she needed them far away from her family.

A burst of pain in her leg had her staggering, crying out in frustration. From behind, one of the Whisperers let out a whoop of triumph.

She darted behind a tree, glancing down to find a knife embedded in her calf. Quickly she assessed it- she couldn't leave it in, couldn't run with it, and thankfully...thankfully it looked as though it had just missed the artery.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled it out. Remembering Eugene mapping out the arteries for her, telling her about each one...

The sobs hit her so hard, so suddenly she thought she'd been struck again, and she sank to the ground. They wrenched themselves from her body, and it felt like bones breaking, it felt like her lungs collapsing, it felt like

the world ending.

All she could see

all she could see was Eugene, bleeding out in front of her, saying her name.

And his blood was on her hands, his blood was smeared on her arms, and

not this

she couldn't handle it

she could survive anything else

but this.

If he died, she died, too.

Behind her, someone whispered her name.

" _Mason_..."

She stilled. Her sobs cut off. But inside-

Inside, her bloodlust screamed to life. And all her previous fury- from before the world ended, from after, from the Governor, the cannibals, the Wolves, the Saviors- it all paled in comparison...

She was going to burn the fucking world to ashes.

More whispers, creeping toward her from both sides. She tucked her new knife into her bra, next to the one Carol had given her. Slowly, she rose to her feet.

" _Mason..._ "

" _Sweet sheep..._ "

" _Come out, little Reaper..._ "

She could see them now in her peripheral vision, angling in from either side. She could hear them behind her, closing in.

Her veins flooded with fire, black and quenchless and implacable as the night.

She was the Reaper.

She was Death.

God might have mercy on their souls, but _she_ was the one taking them.

The Whisperers lunged for her and she broke into a sprint. Branches whipped her face. Rocks ripped her bare feet. She arrowed left, in the direction the other Whisperers were coming from, the ones who had pursued them from the brewery.

She could have run forever. If she decided to keep moving, they'd never catch her. She was a flame, a shooting star. This newest rage, this unquantifiable hate in her bones, it did not eat her alive. It built her up, spark by spark, into something far larger and darker and wilder than she'd ever imagined she could be.

 _Not all monsters are gods._

She reached into her sleeve, reining her speed just enough for them to catch up.

Pulled the first bag from where she'd tied it to her wrist.

Opened it.

 _But all gods are monsters._

She flung the contents behind her, showering her pursuers in salt-dust.

Their skins, the trees, the undergrowth, went up in flames.

She turned as their screams rent the air, their bodies flailing wildly as they tried to escape the sudden conflagration. Some of them, who had been out of range of the sodium nitrate, backed up, confused and horrified.

She pulled the second bag from her wrist.

Too late, they saw her lunge for them. They scrambled to flee, but she doused them with the mixture and they, too, ignited.

She stepped back, devouring the image, breathing in the smell of their burning flesh and reveling in it. Without looking away, she drew her fire poker.

Two Whisperers stumbled in her direction, clawing at their walker skins, trying in vain to smother the flames.

Mason gutted them.

A third Whisperer swiped at her, shrieking.

She ducked his blow and broke both his kneecaps.

Another Whisperer fell to his knees, half-in and half-out of his rumpled skin.

She impaled him to a burning tree.

Freeing both knives from her bra, she swept through the rest of the horde of smoldering bodies, dropping low to sever hamstrings, hopping up to slash stomachs, faces.

She did not kill any of them, not yet. She wanted them to bleed a little first. She wanted them to suffer.

When they were incapacitated, she turned in a circle, examining her work.

The second group of Whisperers stood a ways off, watching her warily. She hadn't heard them sneak up, but their arrival did not startle her. She'd been hoping for it.

She watched them back for a moment, her face impassive and begrimed with blood and ash.

Then she lunged, and was rewarded when they scattered. They scurried back the way they'd come, trying to flee.

But she was faster.

The third bag of sodium nitrate caught the tail end of their retreating swarm. The fourth caught many more.

The rest of them escaped. That was okay. She'd get to them eventually.

She dispatched them all, though she made sure they suffered first, too. But she couldn't leave them to turn. Didn't want them to turn into walkers that the Whisperers could later use.

Through the haze of smoke, Mason spied the silhouettes of the approaching dead. They instilled no fear. She was queen of them.

She retrieved her fire poker from the stomach of a Whisperer and made for home.

~m~

"May..."

It was barely more than a breath, a tiny wisp of sound cracked by agony, but Mason jolted as though someone had shouted.

She leaned forward in her chair, where she'd been perched for hours next to Eugene's hospital bed. Heart pounding, she reached out to take his hand. Renee hovered behind her, silent and tired and grim.

"Hey, Gene Bean," Mason said, in a high, bright voice she didn't really feel. Her whole body felt as useless and transient as a heat mirage. Tears cut a feverish path down her cheeks.

 _He's awake he's awake dear fucking god_ _he's awake_.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, practically closed, but she saw them glimmer a bit as they rolled to meet hers. His lips twitched in a weak smile.

"You sound...like..." He trailed off, breathing deeply like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

Her heart fluttered. "Hey- shh, okay? You...you're in not-so-great shape."

But Eugene ignored her, frustration furrowing his brows as he struggled to speak.

"You sound like...I'm some kind of porcelain. Afraid...afraid I'll break..."

Mason smiled tremulously. "You're my finest china. If you break, what else will I bust out at fancy occasions?"

His smile lingered a moment, but then he shuddered.

"Sorry, I-I'm...cold," he said, barely audible.

Renee strode immediately for the closet, grabbed a quilt and draped it over him, careful not to disturb the IV. It took him longer than it should have to stop shivering; when it seemed he never would, Mason draped herself over him to lend her body heat- carefully, like he really was the thinnest porcelain.

He sighed faintly. "What...happened? Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone's okay." As okay as they could be. "You...you remember Nick attacking Alpha, right?"

A tired nod. "Not much...not much after that..."

Every word seemed painful, like he had to drag them out of thorns. Mason cast an anxious glance at Renee.

"We may need to reinsert the nasal cannula," Renee said. Her tone was all-business. Somehow it eased Mason's panic, if only fractionally.

Eugene scrunched up his nose like a kid who didn't want to take his cold medicine.

"Don't like those," he rasped.

Renee smiled just the tiniest bit. "I bet you wouldn't like not breathing even more."

The words punched Mason in the gut, but she tried not to let it show.

Eugene murmured, "Sounds like...propaganda to me."

Mason's throat welled. Making jokes. On his death bed and making jokes-

 _He is_ not _on his death bed,_ she thought fiercely. Even though technically-

 _No._

She swept the thought, the memory, away.

"So Nick attacked her," Eugene prompted, making her jump.

"Uh- y-yeah. The fam gave us an opportunity to launch a little coup, even without proper weapons..."

Mason recited the whole thing while Renee reapplied the cannula, filling him in both on what she remembered and what her family had told of their own story.

They'd all planned their breakout from the beach house, all of them working together, but it had been Carl, Enid and the Misfits who'd gotten the ball rolling. Carl had utilized all of his chemistry lessons from Eugene to make as many flares and bombs as he could. They'd let the Whisperers believe they'd run out of bullets before employing their chemical warfare, taking them by surprise and fighting their way out.

They'd saved the remainder of their bullets for breaking Mason, Eugene and Sasha free from the brewery; they took also several small chemical bombs and the sodium nitrate in case they might need it. Since they'd gathered only the vaguest clues about where the Whisperers called home, they'd expected to go in blind, fueled by desperation. But just outside the compound they'd run into Nick.

It had taken quite a bit of effort on his part to persuade them that he truly wanted to help, which was what had taken him so long to get back to Mason and Eugene. Apparently he'd been trying to fabricate some way to spread the Whisperers thin, so that when he managed to initiate the actual escape, the building would be deserted and the outside in chaos.

As it turned out, Mason's family was just the weapon he'd been searching for.

When she got to the part about leading the Whisperers away, she skimmed over the details. Not that she thought Eugene would disapprove of what she'd done, but... He was starting to look pale again.

"...and after that-" She paused, glancing briefly at Renee. "After that, I just ran home."

Eugene blinked wearily. "There's more...you're not telling me."

Mason chewed her lip. There was, it was true, but with what Renee had told her of his condition...after what they'd had to do to save him-

"Whether there is or isn't doesn't matter," Renee said briskly. "You need to rest and I need to administer more blood."

"I'm...anemic," he said slowly. "Hypovolemic shock- right?"

Mason flinched. Renee hesitated only briefly.

"We're treating it-"

"Doesn't matter," he puffed. "Lack of oxygen from lack of blood flow...there could be organ damage. I- I was bleeding for a while."

Mason trembled, unwilling to remember it, but the vision came anyway, eating up everything else.

While they'd been performing the surgery, his breathing had stopped, and his heart after that. They'd struggled just to resuscitate him.

Clinically he'd been dead for nearly two minutes.

Mason felt everything inside her begin to unravel at the barest reminder of this. Her head swam. Her own heart felt too weak to keep beating.

 _stopstopstop_

 _Stop, or you're going to fall apart._

She couldn't think about it, couldn't let herself. Ruthless denial was the only way she was going to keep from losing her fucking mind.

"Eugene, you wanna crawl out of bed and play nurse, be my guest," Renee said. "But otherwise, you need another transfusion, and I-"

"No. Please-" He choked a bit and Mason wrapped herself closer around him. "Renee, I- wanna talk to May alone for a minute."

"Eugene-"

"If I'm not...out of the woods yet- I want to talk to her alone."

Mason froze. The implication had her pulse reeling.

Renee frowned uncertainly. When she remained silent, Eugene let out a feeble huff.

"Please."

Something flickered behind Renee's mask of efficiency, and any calm Mason might have borrowed from her dissipated.

Renee bowed her head. "I'll be right outside."

When the door closed, Eugene squeezed Mason's hand and sighed. "May..."

Lips trembling, she nuzzled against his chest. She could hear his heart beating right beneath her ear, but... Was it slower than it should have been? She couldn't tell.

"So what aren't you telling me?" he whispered.

"I told you everything," she replied.

"Liar."

"Hypocrite."

Eugene chuckled, but it turned quickly into a coughing fit. Fear pinched her lungs, tight enough that it hurt to take her next quaking breath.

"Okay, Eugene, I know it goes against your irritating nature but could you please, _please_ shut up?"

"Irritating?"

"You're right, I'm sorry, you're not irritating. You're a beautiful, wonderful _pain in my ass._ "

"So now you're calling me a hemorrhoid."

"Oh my god, stop talking. There's this thing you need to focus on, it's called breathing?"

"I'm just trying...to get that look off your face."

Mason sighed and lifted her head. There was no point in rearranging her expression; she couldn't lie to him.

"A little after you- you stabilized, Alpha sent an emissary." Mason kept her voice soft, her thumb pressed to his wrist. "Just one, but up on the cliff, in the woods, we heard them. Waiting."

"Mmm."

"He said that Alpha's still willing to work out a deal, even after everything. That we can fight to the death if we want to, or-"

"Or?"

"Or..." Mason sighed. "I hand over myself, and your body. She gave us two days."

"My body, huh?"

"She wants me to bury you."

"Well. I must confess...if anyone were to do so-"

" _No_."

There was such a bite to her tone that Eugene blinked. Mason's glare never wavered.

"Don't you _ever_ say that to me again. I am _not_ burying you, it is not funny, it is not a joke, shut the fuck up."

"Okay, May, okay. I'm...I'm sorry. So- I assume you and the others have discussed...a game plan?"

"We're going to fight."

Her voice was steel and fire and darkness, the voice of the woman she'd become out there in the woods. Her final skin.

Eugene nodded slightly, but she could tell by his expression...

She cocked her head. "You don't agree?"

He was silent for a moment. Then he reached out to stroke her head, the buzz on the right side. He smiled.

"War hair," he breathed. "It's like...you knew."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I wish I had," she murmured.

"Mason...do you remember that night- at the mountain house after...after rescuing Daryl? I told you that my death...would not be for nothing."

"That's not what we're discussing now."

"Maybe it should be."

Mason just stared at him.

"Renee and Denise, they...performed surgery to repair my abdominal aorta. Correct?"

It took her a moment. "Yes. But it wasn't severed completely-"

"But it was...cut. You remember...my lessons. For as long as I bled- lack of blood flow... It is difficult to recover-"

"But you will recover. You _are_ recovering."

"This is in case I don't."

Even exhausted as it was, his gaze speared hers.

Quietly, she began to cry.

"I do agree with you, Mason," he said. "You should fight. But...not at first. Like the original plan. Tell me- tell me two things. What is it...that Alpha wants now?"

"I told you."

"No. What does she _want_?"

Mason thought of all things Alpha had done to try to break her, to break Eugene and Sasha. How she reveled in her cruelty and power. The answer was obvious.

"Our surrender," she said quietly, "but not just that. Our _ruin_. She doesn't want there to be any fight left in us. In me."

"Now tell me- when they were...on the cliff, did you see...walkers with them?"

"Yes."

Of course there'd been walkers. The Whisperers were readying for war; they were going to use every weapon at their disposal.

Eugene nodded. "She wants what she wants. Sweeten the deal...with the guns."

"Empties again? They'll check."

"No. Give them bullets, too."

"We're out," she said flatly, although that wasn't really what she meant. What she meant was, _What the fuck kind of plan is that?_

"Good thing I know...how to make them," Eugene panted. There was sweat dewing on his forehead, but he'd started to shiver again. Weakly. Alarm seized Mason, but Eugene went on. "We could never...take them out...if we made the bullets for ourselves."

"Eugene..."

"They'd hide- hide behind the walkers. Get us to waste our ammo. And we don't- we don't have enough supplies...to fill all the spent casings. Not enough...not enough bullets to take them down. We are out- out of options."

Under her thumb, his pulse stuttered, slowed, stuttered.

" _Eugene_ -"

"I...love you, May." His eyes squeezed shut. "You need- you need to get Renee now."

Panic rushed every other thought from Mason's head.

" _Renee_!" she screamed.

Eugene's pulse was a strained, broken thing beneath her. She tried to fill her lungs with air, failed. She was shaking, hyperventilating, the room spinning in and out of focus-

" _No, Eugene, please, don't do this to me_ -"

No response. The door flung open, Renee darting inside with Denise by her side, and Mason stumbled aside to let them through.

" _Eugene_ ," she whispered. But his eyes stayed closed.

Mason welled with tears, drowned in them.

She doubled over and wailed his name and the silence in response razed her heart to nothing.

 **Alpha**

The first night after delivering their message, they watched the little sheep play soldier, fortifying that pretty beach house with pallet wood and corrugated steel. Alpha watched them for hours, the chaotic storm of their flashlights, but saw no sign of the Reaper or the Chemist.

She monitored them all the next day, hidden from sight in the woods. None of the sheep showed their faces...

Until sunset.

Mason came out first, looking haggard. Lifeless. Even from the cliff, Alpha could spot the tears glistening on her cheeks. She looked as though she'd been crying for days. In one hand she held a shovel, the end of which dragged through the sand behind her.

The Archer and the man named Morgan followed her, looking equally defeated and carrying shovels of their own, as well as several pieces of what looked like plywood.

After a moment, Mason staggered. The Archer rushed forward to steady her, and for several minutes she stood with her head in one hand, a portrait of grief. Then she jammed her shovel into the sand and began to dig.

Alpha watched them burrow into the shore until the sun went down and the night blanketed everything. A waxing moon was rising in the east, shedding silver light. They finished the hole after a few hours, lining it with the plywood, and then returned inside.

They were gone for several minutes, but when they emerged again it was in procession, all the little sheep scrunched together as though trying to comfort each other through proximity. Some of them carried candles, which they laid in the sand around the hole.

Last to follow were Mason, the Archer and the remainder of the mountain warriors, carrying between them a body.

The _Chemist's_ body.

Alpha trembled with excitement. Her eyes darted, searching for some kind of subterfuge. But his body was limp and pale, and so was Mason; she looked about a breath away from joining him.

Hell fucking _yes_.

She was a bit disappointed she hadn't been there to see the light fade from his eyes, but considering how long she'd waited for this, she figured she didn't have a lot of room to complain.

"So tomorrow we proceed?" a voice at her shoulder murmured.

She flashed a grin at Murph and replied, "Tomorrow you get your experiments back. You can see how grief affects the incubation process."

Down on the beach, the sheep had surrounded the grave and were lowering the body inside. The Priest's mouth was moving, though his voice was too low for Alpha to pick up a word. She didn't see Nick anywhere among them. She wondered if he was inside the house, or if he'd already decided to run.

After the Reaper's little display the other day, burning and decimating Alpha's people, Alpha had been sure they would put up a fight. And the reinforcements they'd put up, like they were expecting a war. But now...

But now the Chemist was dead. And Mason would do anything for her people, including surrender if she thought it would save them.

Below, she and the Archer and the mountain warriors had started shoveling sand into the grave. The other sheep began to trail back inside. Alpha never moved.

When the hole was finally filled back in, Mason stood looking down at it. The Archer and the mountain warriors tried to talk to her, but she stayed silent, staring at the patch of churned sand at her feet. Eventually they left her alone, and when they were gone, she lowered herself to the ground and laid down next to the grave. Like she might stay there forever.

Alpha's blood thrummed with triumph. She felt drunk on it.

"C'mon," she said to Murph. "Let's make sure everything's ready for tomorrow."

She turned, leaving the Reaper to her dead.

NOTE: Guys, okay, so, I know this chapter was pretty bleak but trust me... There's a possibility that it's not as bleak as it seems. Actually, at the risk of giving too much away, I can pretty much guarantee that it's not, at least in some aspects, so...please indulge me in a leap of faith ya'll? lol The next chapter is basically like an answer to this one, and it's also very significant, so that's why I'm posting them consecutively. Like I said, I hope you enjoyed this one, and that you enjoy the next. We're getting really close to the end here and I'm so excited, I hope ya'll are, too. Much love, you guys, and let me know what you think.


	31. Time to Say Goodbye

Hello, again, ya'll, I'll keep this brief. Today's chapter song is "Time to Say Goodbye", a great tune by Twenty One Pilots. Be prepared, this chapter gets a little gory? I mean, it's The Walking Dead, I know ya'll are expecting it, but still. Anyway, thanks again, you guys, I really do appreciate all your support. Hope you guys like this one, please let me know what you think!

31\. Time to Say Goodbye

 **Alpha**

They made their way down to the beach with the dead. The cold bodies stuck to their ranks like loyal dogs, docile for the moment; Alpha and her Whisperers kept up a steady stream of murmuring to maintain this unity. Alpha and Murph, in the lead, were the only ones not wearing dead skins. Murph had never been partial to them, and Alpha...

Alpha wanted Mason to _see_ her.

The sheep were already waiting on the shore, all of them wearing white cloaks made from what looked like bed sheets. All of them except Mason herself, who wore her Reaper cloak. Alpha narrowed her eyes, wondering if it was some kind of trickery or just symbolism. Mason was partial to both.

Alpha stopped some distance from them and the Whisperers began to walk in circles at her back, quelling the cold bodies.

Halfway between both groups, the grave with its little wooden cross. Just like in the dream.

Alpha bared her teeth in a grin. "I thought mourners wore black," she called.

Mason was silent for a moment, blinking at Alpha like she was processing her words, like it was a struggle just to get her brain to function. Everything about the way she held herself, the shadows under her red-rimmed eyes, screamed defeat.

"I'm wearing black," she finally rasped. She sounded lost, like the last bird left to leave for the winter. "The others... I wanted it to be clear that this was a surrender. I don't want there to be any bloodshed."

"White flag of truce." Alpha nodded. "I like it."

"And..." Mason swallowed, staring blankly at the grave. "I am the Reaper. This is the last time I will shepherd them through the valley of death. I wanted them to stand apart from it. They're the ones I want to leave uncorrupted."

 _Pathetic._

"So you're here to give me what I want, right?" Alpha said. "I mean, it would be pretty fucking pointless for you to fight at this point. Even with the number you did on my people the other day- bravo, by the way, that must have been something to see- you're still outnumbered. Besides- who are you without your Chemist, huh?"

Mason flinched visibly. It took her even longer this time to respond, her chest heaving like she couldn't catch her breath.

"I'm- I'm here, Alpha," she finally said, "to give myself to you. And..."

She turned, and one of her sheep stepped forward to hand her a gun bag.

"To give you these."

Alpha narrowed her eyes. "We already played this game, bunny. I wouldn't test me if I were you-"

"No, please, it's-" A single tear rolled down Mason's cheek; she took a shuddering breath before continuing. "You can check them yourself right now. They're all loaded. Not fully- we didn't have enough for that- but... There's ammo this time."

"Why?"

"Because when you take me... When you take me, my people are going to leave. Peacefully. You'll never see them again and they'll never see you again and you won't have to worry about an ambush this time."

Alpha hesitated before whistling shortly. Two Whisperers broke off from the herd, striding over to Mason and wresting the bag from her. Alpha watched, missing nothing, as they opened it and checked the guns.

After a moment, they looked up and nodded.

"She's telling the truth," one of them said. "They're all loaded."

Alpha pursed her lips. "Huh. Thanks, Mace. You always were the giving one."

The two with the bag returned to the herd and, at her nod of consent, began to pass out the guns to the rest of the Whisperers. There were only enough arm twenty-three or so, but Alpha didn't mind.

Mason blinked, watching this. Alpha smiled.

"You know, there's a part of me that's a little disappointed you didn't decide to fight. I was hoping to break this out." She reached behind her, brandishing the fire iron she'd strapped to her back. "I found it in one of those fancy-ass McMansion homes. In that neighborhood I took you to, remember? Of course you do, I taught you an important lesson that day."

Idly, Alpha swung the iron.

"By the way, how is Sasha doing?"

One of the white-clad figures stepped forward, lifting her head.

"I'm alive," Sasha said.

"Well, that _is_ interesting. See, Murph, here has been wondering a few things since you've missed all your regularly scheduled doctor's appointments. Apparently your blood reacts slightly differently with the virus- cure, _whatever-_ than everyone else's does. It's moving less aggressively in you. As in, you're strong enough to stand up right now when most patients at this point would be bedridden."

"Actually, ninety-eight percent of them would already be dead," Murph spoke up nervously. "To this day, we've only ever seen this anomaly once. A former patient exhibited the same slow progression, and then a sudden, rapid decline into death. However he was mute-"

"Tongue cut out, to be precise," Alpha offered.

"Y-yes. He was never able to provide any information that might explain his aberrations. So- so it begs the question, what sets you apart?"

"Yeah. What is it." Alpha speared Mason with her gaze. " _Mace_?

She stared back, a flicker of something in her eyes. Something like unease.

"Any ideas?"

"I'm not a doctor," Mason rasped.

"No. But it _did_ occur to me that you claimed to have survived the flu twice. And it also occurred to me that when you told me this, I was well aware you were... Not lying, exactly. More like covering something up. Jumping in to keep the attention focused on yourself. I didn't think much of it at the time- you were trying to keep us from experimenting on Sasha- but now... Now I think it was something else."

Mason opened her mouth to speak, but Sasha grabbed her arm and said, "I've had it twice, too. Alright?"

Alpha exchanged a glance with Murph.

" _There's_ that honesty we were looking for."

"You can experiment on me, Alpha," Mason said suddenly. "You can use my blood or whatever you need to help Sasha. But- you have to help her."

" _Have_ to?" Alpha arched her brow. "Sounds an awful lot like a demand, Mace..."

"Please. We can work something out. You said you wanted me- just me this time. You can have me. But I need to take care of my family."

Alpha pretended to consider this for a moment. Then she reached into her pocket and withdrew a syringe, holding it up to show off the thick red fluid inside.

"This is the blood of a patient who carried the flu virus and the resurrection virus," she said. "He was well on his way to death. I took this sample right before he stopped breathing."

Actually, she'd had the whole wing executed- a quick, quiet affair only a select few knew about. Even Murph had no idea; she'd made sure to do it after he'd left the brewery.

"I'm gonna inject you with this, Mason," she continued. "It seems an appropriate end for you. Oh, but I'm sorry- there's a chance it might cure you. Pretty slim if you want my opinion, but..."

"You're not gonna inject her with shit," Sasha growled.

"I'm gonna do whatever the hell I want with her. She's _mine_ now, just like she was always meant to be."

Sasha's face, pale and clammy though it was, was unyielding stone.

"No."

Mason frowned. "Sasha-"

"You better control your friend there, Mace."

"She's not infecting you, Mason, she shouldn't be taking you in the first place."

Alpha cocked her head. "Sounds like not everyone's cool with this peaceful resolution business."

Mason held up a hand. "No, no, she is, just- Sasha, please, it's okay."

"It's _not_ , Mason. You know it. We all know it. Eugene never would have-"

" _Don't._ "

Mason's voice was dangerous and Sasha wisely shut up.

"I'm sorry," Alpha said sweetly. "I don't mean to cause a rift. This whole cure business just puts us all at each other's throats, doesn't it? Honestly, I've been getting real tired of the whole thing, but now, seeing it come between two good friends? Breaks my heart. In fact, you know what?"

Lightning-fast, Alpha grabbed Murph's arm, yanked him close, and drove her knife up through the back of his neck.

His eyes bulged with disbelief a heartbeat before they went blank. His body twitched in her grip. His blood warmed her hand.

"There," she said. "No more drama over it."

Mason and her sheep were frozen in utter shock. Even a few of Alpha's Whisperers had paused in their circular parade. But after a moment, one of the sheep began stalking forward, snarling.

" _FUCKING_ _BITCH_!"

Mason leapt for him. "Tanner, stop!"

Alpha glanced back at her people. "Aim your guns!" she barked, and as they all obeyed she turned back to spread her arms wide. Mason and her sheep tensed immediately; even Tanner halted in his steps, though his chest heaved with rage. "I'm sorry, Mason, but I'm just not feeling your deal. There will be no peaceful resolution. I intended to slaughter your family anyway, but you're so fucking stupid you made it this much easier. See what sentiment gets you? _Sentiment_ leads to _hope_. And hope...that bitch is a killer."

Mason's chin trembled, her eyes wide with horror.

"Please- t-take me, Alpha. Take me. That's what you said you wanted."

"That _is_ what I want," Alpha replied. "I just omitted the rest."

She raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

The guns went off.

Not a single sheep fell, but behind her, to her absolute bewilderment, the shooters collapsed in a shower of fractured metal and severed fingers.

 **Mason**

Each shooter rocked back as the guns burst.

Some of them were knocked unconscious by the blow, walker skins ripped open to reveal the real skin beneath, which was torn as well. Some of them stared at the stumps where their fingers had been a second earlier, trying to make sense of their sudden, impossible absence.

The other Whisperers had startled out of their incessant marching, and the walkers, alerted by the gunfire and subsequent scent of blood, took the opportunity to fall upon the victims.

Alpha didn't bother trying to save any of them, though a few of the Whisperers attempted to yank the walkers away. The shock on her face turned grotesque with rage as she gaped at Mason.

Mason stared back unflinchingly, abandoning her previous mask of terror and meekness and adorning her features with something more truthful. Letting the leash off that new fire of hers.

"The Chemist taught us how to make bullets," she hollered. "Guess we didn't get it quite right."

As she spoke, she raised her hand in a silent signal to her people.

 _Green light._

In one synchronized movement, they ripped their cloaks off, revealing the weapons hidden beneath and the duct tape covering their clothes. Bite-proof armor.

Briefly, she caught a whiff of rain, the smell of Beth's hair. Briefly, she heard the throaty rasp of Abraham's chuckle at her side.

Briefly, the touch of Rick's hand on her shoulder.

"Get 'em, kid."

Sharp buttons and hella confidence.

She whistled, one loud, clear note, and launched herself forward, brandishing her fire iron. Her family followed at her heels, and her heart swelled with ferocious pride.

With a shriek of outrage, Alpha called to rally her own people. The Whisperers scrambled to obey, tripping over the bodies of the injured and the walkers eating them. They rushed forward, weapons raised, but...

Mason's army hit them hard.

The two waves crashed together, and Mason and her family kept to their feet while the first line of Whisperers fell. Clumsy in the sand and bewildered by the turn of events, they struggled to regain what edge they could.

But Mason's people had trained in the sand for two years. Mason had jogged the length of the shore every day. This was _their_ battlefield, this was _home._

She and Alpha met in the center of their warriors, their irons clashing like swords. Alpha's teeth were bared in a snarl, the fury of a thousand warring armies sparking in her eyes. Mason kept her own face emotionless, her breathing even. The darkest fire filled her veins, fueling her movements.

Alpha's anger made her quick and vicious, but Mason was calm and controlled; she saw everything through a lens of slow motion, allowing her to glean little bits of intelligence even as she fought.

Like Carol with her knives and Morgan with his fuck-you-up stick, fighting back to back.

Like Rosita and Renee kissing briefly before launching themselves at a pair of Whisperers.

Like a walker biting down on Maggie's duct-taped shirt sleeve, and her merely shaking it off with an impatient huff before driving her knife through the eye of a Whisperer.

Like Alpha, leaving her left side open and unguarded.

Mason, straining to hold Alpha's iron back with her own, abruptly spun to the side. The sudden lack of resistance had Alpha stumbling forward, and as they passed each other, Mason skewered her flank with the iron.

Alpha screamed, swinging her fire poker. It caught Mason on the neck and knocked the breath from her. Gasping, she ducked forward, blinking hastily to clear the tears from her vision.

"I'm gonna skin every one of your sheep, Mason," Alpha hissed. "That's what sheep are for. And I'm gonna make sure you see every bloody second of it."

Mason stayed silent, rationing her breaths, keeping carefully neutral. Alpha had already gotten the chance to dig into Mason's wounds, to twist the knife in.

Mason was over it.

They lunged for each other, metal clanking against metal. They were evenly matched as they clashed again and again and again, twisting and dancing through the chaos of their war.

Mason spotted a cluster of her people- Dave, Heath, Carl and Enid- triumphantly driving a portion of Whisperers back into the ocean. The current swept in under their enemies' unsteady feet, bowling them over.

She spotted Sherry and Daryl fighting shoulder to shoulder, Daryl no longer encumbered by his prosthetic but bolstered by it, Sherry looking fierce and unstoppable in a splattering of blood.

She spotted Tara and Jesus orbiting protectively around Sasha, though she was kicking ass despite the sickness. Tanner and Gabriel flanked each other, an unlikely duo fueled by identical rage. Michonne was a lethal meteor, trailing blood in her wake.

They were so beautiful, so strong, and she loved them. She loved them to the ends of the earth, and that love- that love was going to lead them out of the darkness. She was the protector, the sword and the shield. Not just the Reaper, but Mama Death.

Sweat dripped down her face, stinging her eyes, but she never lost her focus. Alpha was _hers_. She would not allow her to hurt or corrupt anyone else, not ever again.

"You fight like a badass," Alpha panted. "The Chemist must have been proud."

The hint of a smile twitched Alpha's lips. She was obviously expecting her words to cut like a blade. She was obviously expecting Mason to flinch or falter or break.

She didn't, though the bloodlust did boil her from the inside, roaring to snap Alpha's neck.

But Eugene had taught her how to control it. How to hone it into a knife.

She switched up her attack.

She wasn't as expert at it as Morgan and Eugene were, but she siphoned every ounce of righteous fury, of cataclysmic wrath, into moving the way they'd taught her.

Suddenly, Alpha was on the defensive, her eyes widening. She had no idea how to counter redirection.

Mason was relentless. Though Alpha ducked and dodged, whatever blows she tried to land were used against her.

It was in the middle of this that Mason glimpsed him- Nick, smeared in walker blood, carving a path toward her. There was a Whisperer trailing him, though as she watched...

As she watched, the Whisperer drove their knife through the throat of another Whisperer before carrying on.

Mason's pulse jumped. They were close, they were almost to her and Alpha...

 _Don't get distracted, soldier_ , Abraham barked. _Distractions are how you lose a testicle._

 _I don't have any of those, but thanks all the same._

She narrowed her attention back to Alpha, who clenched her teeth as Mason drove her back. Her fire poker swung out, aiming for Mason's head. But Mason reoriented the blow, and suddenly the iron was tumbling from her hand, arcing through the air and disappearing into the fray.

Alpha seethed. Mason raised her fire poker, but Alpha ducked and rolled, slamming into her from the side. They tumbled to the ground. Alpha pressed her boot to Mason's wrist, grinding her iron into the sand. She wrapped a hand around Mason's throat, digging in with her nails. The other she reached in to her pocket to withdraw the syringe.

Mason bucked, trying to wrap her legs around Alpha's back and roll. But Alpha just squeezed her throat tighter, till Mason's vision began to blur.

"You were always my little experiment, Mace."

Behind her, Nick was breaking through the melee. And the Whisperer behind him...

"You are whatever I tell you to be," Alpha whispered. "You became the Reaper for me. You took down the Sanctuary for me. And now, you are going to suffer every second of the rest of your pathetic life for me."

She raised the syringe.

Blood showered Mason's face.

The hand constricting her throat disappeared and she lurched up, gasping for air. When her vision cleared, she realized that Alpha had reeled back, and was staring at her arm.

Or at least, the place where her arm had been.

It was a clean cut through the bicep. Red spurted from the amputation like liquid fireworks. The arm itself lay in the sand, still clutching the syringe.

Above her stood the Whisperer, his machete still gleaming with her blood; Nick stood next to him, keeping watch in case someone else decided to attack.

Alpha blinked at him, clearly in shock. "What- what the fuck-"

The Whisperer didn't reply at first, but his eyes flickered briefly to meet Mason's.

His blue, blue eyes.

Her pulse took off at a dizzying thrum.

Then the Whisperer reached up, grasped the walker skin masking his face, and tugged it off.

"Howdy," Eugene rasped.

Mason grinned fiercely.

Alpha's expression was comical, eyes bulging, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"But- you- I saw you _bury him_!" she hissed.

"I _did_ bury him," Mason replied. "He had about four hours of oxygen in the grave, but you only stayed for the first twenty minutes."

"Don't feel bad, Alpha," Eugene said. He was shaky and breathless, his voice tight with pain, but his eyes twinkled with triumph. "If it's any consolation, you were duped by the two best liars in the multiverse."

Mason didn't think she'd ever felt more smug than in that single moment, watching the confusion of emotions war for dominance on Alpha's face.

But then Nick reached back to touch Eugene's arm, and nodded to a small band of approaching Whisperers. "Hey. Company."

Alpha seized this distraction to grab Mason's fire poker. She used it to push herself to her feet, spattering blood, her eyes wholly on Eugene.

Before she could attack him, Mason lunged, bowling her back to the ground. The iron skidded across the sand and out of reach.

She grabbed Alpha by the throat and muttered, "Not today, bitch." Then, with her free hand, she jammed her thumb into Alpha's eye socket.

Alpha began to writhe, a strangled scream escaping her. Mason just kept digging.

In her peripheral vision, she kept tabs on Nick and Eugene, watchful for any signs that Eugene's strength was flagging. He was not at his best, which did not surprise her, but he stood his ground. Nick diverted most of the chaos away from him anyway.

Finally, she pulled her thumb from Alpha's eye and prepared to jab it into the other one. But Alpha shrieked, the sound so feral it might have come from an animal, and threw Mason to the side with a mighty thrash.

" _Bitch_!" she howled and began clawing at Mason's face.

Eugene was there in a heartbeat- his machete still embedded in the chest of a Whisperer as he turned to crack his knee against Alpha's chin. The action clearly hurt, however- even with the bindings they'd wrapped tightly around his stomach- because he flinched as though someone had punched him, his face going pale.

Alpha scrambled forward clumsily, not bothering to get to her feet, and lunged forward as though she intended to rip into his stomach with her teeth.

Mason kicked out before she could reach him, and the heel of her shoe scraped Alpha's bleeding stump.

Agony turned her face bone-white. She crumpled, wailing, spraying sand as she convulsed. Mason staggered to her feet. She cast a quick glance at Eugene, who seemed only barely able to pull his machete free of the Whisperer. She couldn't help a pulse of anxiety. He'd insisted on fighting beside her, on helping her bring Alpha down, but... If the battle went on for much longer, she'd have to bench him.

Briefly, she examined the battlefield. The beach was strewn with corpses, and though it was impossible to tell Whisperers apart from walkers, Mason noted with relief that none of the bodies were familiar.

Unsheathing her knife, she strode toward Alpha, who lay huddled in a ball on the sand. She shook with heaving gasps that Mason did not believe one bit. So it did not surprise her that when she got close enough, Alpha burst into movement, swiping her leg out to knock Mason's from under her. Mason sidestepped and aimed her knife, but Alpha rolled just out range. Her remaining eye wheeled. Foam bubbled through her clenched teeth.

Finally she pitched toward Mason, wrapped her whole body around one leg, and sank her teeth into Mason's knee- the one it had taken her over a year to heal. The duct tape kept her from breaking any skin, but she bit down hard enough to send a shooting pain up Mason's leg.

Mason hissed and stabbed the knife down, but unbalanced as she was it did not land where she wanted it. Still, scraping the collarbone just _below_ the pulse point was enough to get Alpha to release her.

They fell apart for a moment, breathing raggedly. Alpha had never looked more unraveled, and never more dangerous because of it, and yet...

She was scared.

Mason grinned. And at her side-

At her side, she felt Dray, and Charlie, and Ashlee. She felt Rick. All of them.

"You know, Negan once told me I was a calamity," she said, and just faintly, in the back of her mind, she heard an echo of his voice. She couldn't tell if it was a memory or a ghost but she shivered all the same. "He said I was a monstrous god."

She cocked her head.

"Are you proud of yourself for provoking me? Was it worth it?"

"Smug bitch," Alpha spat.

"Hypocrite."

"End me then, Reaper. That's your job, right? But I swear to you right now- I will be the last life you take."

Without another word, she snatched up a metal rod dropped by one of her Whisperers. Mason lunged for her fire poker, and was only barely able to scoop it up before Alpha descended on her.

Even with only one arm, even drained and unsteady from blood loss, Alpha had enough spark in her to raise hell. Rabid with rage and the adrenaline of an animal who sensed its end was near, she sparred with Mason, screaming, _screaming_ for Mason's blood-

"May!"

She looked up, just in time to see Eugene toss her his machete. She caught it with her free hand, redirecting a powerful blow from Alpha in the same sleek movement.

And then she swiped the machete across Alpha's stomach.

Alpha faltered. The metal rod tumbled from her grip. She blinked down at her stomach, the red gushing from it, the gleam of guts exposed to sunlight...

Then she collapsed.

Panting, Mason stared at her for a moment, almost unable to believe it. Then, slowly, she approached.

Alpha lay twitching, spilling viscera onto the sand, gagging and choking on blood, and even then... Even as utterly defeated as she was, she still exuded that same dangerous energy, that spiteful malice that could have razed the world to ruin. Like she was fully prepared to grab anyone within range and drag them down into hell with her.

Slowly, Mason knelt beside her, eyeing her impassively.

One green eye rolled to meet her gaze.

"Monstrous...god," she whispered thickly. "You'll never...have that life you wanted, Mason."

Mason tipped her head and said coldly, "I think I just won that life back today, Alpha."

But Alpha grinned, her teeth stained red, and shook her head.

"Say...goodbye to it...Reaper."

Something sharp stabbed into Mason's stomach.

She gasped. Looked down.

A syringe jutted from her flesh, just beneath the stitches. Empty, but still stained red from the blood...

The blood-

Mason's heart stopped.

She gaped at Alpha, who let out a wet, strangled laugh.

"I always...win, Reaper. Even...in death. I guess- I'll be seeing you there...soon."

She laughed again, a clotted, unholy sound.

Mason drove the machete through Alpha's throat, silencing her forever.

Blood bubbled between her teeth, those lips still stretched wide in a grotesque smirk. Her eye glittered a few seconds more before the light left them completely.

Mason crouched there for a moment over the body of the enemy who had plagued her for so long, who had terrorized her waking world and her dreams.

And she felt nothing.

Nothing except her racing heart, and the fading, pinprick of pain in her stomach, and the disquiet slowly stealing over her soul.

She stared at the syringe embedded in her skin, the dregs of the blood that was now in her blood. Then she looked up.

The battle was drawing to an end. Some of the Whisperers had already fled. Many more lay strewn across the beach.

On her right, Eugene was slitting the throat of a remaining enemy. He had his back to her, and she realized...

She realized he hadn't seen. He didn't know.

Pulse thundering, she grabbed the syringe and yanked it out, burying it in the sand. But when she glanced to her left-

Nick stood a few feet away, watching her. His blood-smeared face was pinched with dismay and she knew he'd seen, she knew he understood.

She held his gaze, for just one heartbeat allowing the anguish to creep into her face. And there was pain that flashed between them, yes, but there was also a grim camaraderie. She trusted him to keep quiet about this, just as he'd kept quiet for her at the brewery.

Then the moment passed and she blinked, and the anguish melted back into that cage in her heart. She reached out a hand in Nick's direction.

"Little help?"

He pulled her to her feet. The world spun a bit as she stood.

 _I always win, Reaper._

She shook her head and turned to Eugene, who was bent double with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Immediately, any concern she'd had for her own sake disappeared. She hurried over to him but he held up a quelling hand.

"S'okay," he said. "Just...just a bit difficult to breathe at the current moment."

"Then you shouldn't be talking," Mason scolded, rubbing a soothing hand over his back.

Finally he caught his breath, straightened and began scrutinizing her, searching for any life-threatening wounds. She stifled the urge to hide her belly with her hands.

When his eyes reached her face, he frowned gently. "Are you okay, May?"

And because she was afraid, because she didn't know how to put words to the truth, she nodded.

And lied to him perfectly for the first time.

"Yeah. It's just been a very long day."

He let out a rasping chuckle. "I won't argue that."

She sighed. "You need to get back to the infirmary. Nick, would you take him?"

She kissed Eugene before Nick led him away, and, god, it nearly broke her. And then she was turning back to face her family, the beach and the corpses, and she just...

She was so exhausted.

She was so goddamn tired, she didn't want to have to do this, she didn't want to do _any_ of this anymore. Tears pricked her eyes-

But then she saw Tanner, staggering through the bodies, and how lost he looked now that the fight was over. The shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep. He'd seen Dray and Charlie, he'd seen his _sister_ , torn apart right in front of him.

And the moment of selfish weariness disappeared. Blinking away her tears, she made her way over to him, to her family. No matter what, it wasn't about her. It never had been.

She checked on every one of them, sending those who needed medical attention to the infirmary, being there for the ones who were just as exhausted as she was. She played mom to all of them, hugging them, wiping away their tears, joking with them just to see them smile. She forgot about Alpha. She forgot about the syringe. All that mattered was her family, and what a miracle it was that they had survived the battle.

After a while, she sent everyone back to the house to eat and rest. She promised Michonne that she'd be right behind them, but once she was alone, Mason began the long, arduous process of clearing away the bodies.

It was bitter work, and her muscles were soon burning, screaming for a break. But the pain kept her mind off of things.

Eventually, Nick returned and set to work helping her without a word. They only spoke when Mason asked how Eugene was doing, and he told her that he was asleep and doing fine. She appreciated the silence.

She didn't know how to feel when she finally returned to Alpha's body. The bloody, mangled frame elicited no emotion from her, except perhaps a bone-deep lethargy she could not seem to shake. Yet she couldn't stop staring at it, even when Nick came to stand by her side.

"You want me to take it away?" he finally offered.

Mason didn't answer at first. "How many Whisperers got away, do you know?"

"I think I saw maybe fifteen or so."

"Do you think they'll come back?"

"I don't know."

Mason nodded. Then she knelt in the sand, pulling Eugene's machete from her belt.

"We'll clear the body in a minute, but...I'm gonna harvest the head first."

"For what?"

"Could you find me, like, a metal rod or something?"

Confused, Nick nodded, and while he was gone Mason severed Alpha's head from her shoulders. Blood oozed onto the sand, already thick and darkening into that of the undead. Mason swallowed her disgust, grabbed a fistful of that wild, red hair and held the head aloft. When Nick reappeared, Mason jammed it down onto the steel piping he'd found. It took a bit of maneuvering, but eventually the head stayed in place.

"What are you going to do with it?" Nick asked, eyeing her handiwork like he thought he might vomit.

"It's a sign," Mason said, and sighed. "Until we know whether the surviving Whisperers are a threat, whether we hunt them down or what, I want there to be something to remind them of what happened here today. To warn them off if they do decide to come back. To warn them...if they're stupid enough to fuck with my family again, they'll meet the same end."

Nick blinked, turning his gaze on her. She stared him down unblinkingly while he scrutinized her. Finally he nodded.

"Where do you want it?"

The sun was going down by the time they were finished, all the corpses in a pile at the fringe of the beach. They'd burn them later. Mason cast a glance toward the path snaking up the cliff, at the top of which- perched right on the cliff's edge- they'd put their sign. She was sure Alpha had turned by now but she hadn't had the stomach to go check.

Nick touched her arm. "C'mon. You're dead on your feet," he murmured, then winced, realizing what he'd said.

But Mason was too numb, too tired to think about it. Silently she nodded and let him lead her back to the house.


	32. Cancer

Hey, guys, so I'm back with a new chapter and I just have to say, it actually turned out way longer than I thought. So, I hope it's enjoyable. The chapter song is "Cancer", which was originally done by My Chemical Romance, but for this chapter, I actually think the cover by Twenty One Pilots fits better. It's just so heart-wrenching and solemn and just...super cool lol. Also, I reference Hozier's "Work Song" in this chapter because at this point it's basically Mason and Eugene's theme song. Anyway, as always, THANK YOU for your reviews and support, ya'll just are too damn awesome. I'm really, really excited about this next chapter, I hope to have it out soon, and I hope ya'll enjoy this one in the meantime. Let me know what you think!

32\. Cancer

There were a lot of things to be concerning herself with, and for the past week, she had been. But today...today she could not stop thinking about the plan.

The whole thing had been a product of her and Eugene scheming together, just like the good old days. Every aspect laid out, organized and reorganized until every loophole was accounted for. Still...

So much of it had depended on sheer _luck_. On Mason's knowledge of Alpha, and how she would respond to every play. In retrospect... Jesus, they were lucky to still be breathing.

And Eugene... Goddamn him, she still couldn't believe she'd ever let him out on that battlefield.

The day when he'd woken up from surgery, after she'd filled him in on their situation and he'd had her call Renee back into the room...

A heart attack. From the blood loss, the lack of oxygen getting to his organs. Mild, Renee had said later, after they'd stabilized him, but Mason had wondered just how mild a fucking heart attack could be.

But another transfusion- Rosita had graciously provided the first batch when Mason had been fighting the Whisperers, but there'd been no way Mason wasn't providing the second- and a dose of iron later, and Eugene had opened his eyes again. Some of the color had finally returned to his cheeks, the shortness of breath easing so that it no longer pained her watching him try to speak. Both Renee and Denise had insisted he rest, but the stubborn bastard had refused to until they'd worked out a game plan.

So Mason had sat next to him, playing idly with his hair while they conspired. The whole time she'd been on edge, watchful for any sign that his heart might fail again, but he only seemed to strengthen the longer they talked- slowly, but steadily...

~m~

 _The guns were their first angle, or rather, Eugene's. A last grand gesture of surrender, Mason's final plea to save her people._

 _"We both know she's not going to follow through on any deal you might establish with her," Eugene said. "But she is well aware how desperate you are to protect your people. Desperate enough to hand over the last bargaining chip in your possession."_

 _"And as soon as she has the guns, she's going to fire on us..." Mason replied, trying to follow his train of logic._

 _"Yes. I am very much counting on that." Then he gave her a lopsided grin. "As you know, I am quite savvy when it comes to bullets and their construction, which also means that I am fully aware how_ not _to make them. You could even say I have intimate knowledge concerning what might cause a gun to misfire, and the most catastrophic possibilities therein."_

 _Mason stared at him for a moment before shaking her head and saying, "I fucking love you."_

 _Next came the trickier part- hiding the weapons they intended on using. It wasn't going to be as easy as taping them to their bodies, like with the guns. Machetes and baseball bats were certainly too unwieldy for that. They'd need something to cover themselves completely._

 _"How about cloaks?" Mason suggested._

 _"For everyone?" Eugene frowned doubtfully. "If I were Alpha, I'd be a tad suspicious of that..."_

 _"Not if she thought it was my idea- and why wouldn't she? Alpha knows how symbolic I am. She's the same way, I mean...the cloaks she made for us? We were_ symbols _in the War."_

 _"But what would we emblematize?"_

 _"We'll wear white, for surrender. And because she thinks we're sheep. And because..." Mason paused, trying and failing to come up with the proper words to explain. "I- I am the dark spirit leading the good out of hell. Reverse reaping, in a sense. So- so I'll wear my Death cloak, and the rest of you can wear white."_

 _"Not me."_

 _Mason blinked. "Well, of course not you, there's no way in hell I'm letting you out there."_

 _"Apologies, darlin', but you'll have to change your mind on that matter. I will be out there, you can bet your lunch money on that, but I will be making my own play, separate from your flock."_

 _"Eugene, I will strap you to this fucking bed if I have to-"_

 _"Mason, you_ need me _out there. It won't be enough, taking her by surprise with the cloaks or even the guns. We cannot settle for simply pulling the rug from under her. We need to rip out the whole goddamn floor."_

 _Mason's expression must have been something to behold, but Eugene didn't flinch from it._

 _"How many near-death experiences do you need before you know when to draw the line?" she said. "You're fucking mental if you think... I mean,_ Christ _, Eugene, you were_ dying _! Denise and Renee were barely able to save you! And when I saw you, I thought-"_

 _She broke off then, swollen with tears. Furiously she shook them away._

 _"No," she said. "I won't lose you. I won't allow that."_

 _"You won't," he said. Then, gently, he wrapped his pinky finger around hers. "I promise."_

 _She closed her eyes. Shook her head. "Don't do that. This is serious-"_

 _"And you know I take my pinky swears very seriously. Look, Mason, just- hear me out, alright? How many times have I led you astray?"_

 _"Well, there was that one time you said you were a scientist..."_

 _He scowled. "Just_ listen, _smartass. Considering the fact that I am still recovering, and will be when the time comes to initiate our plan, I realize that I will not be at the top of my game. Your biggest gripe is that this will put me in danger, correct? What I've come up with will allow me to fight alongside you and the family while remaining relatively safe. All things being equal, you could say I will be a ghost among the Whisperers."_

 _"How?"_

 _"It shouldn't be too difficult to skin a walker."_

 _"You're...you're going to pose as one of them?"_

 _"Walker or Whisperer, it doesn't rightly matter. Either way, they will not be expecting a sheep in wolf's clothing."_

 _He grinned at his little joke. Mason rolled her eyes._

 _"What makes you think they won't catch you?"_

 _"Because I am the best damn liar in the multiverse. And you still have that look on your face like you think I'm an idiot."_

 _"Not an idiot, no, no..." She glared at him. "Just_ stupid _as all shit-sucking_ hell! _Do you_ hear _yourself? Do you know how fucking_ risky _-"_

 _"I've calculated the risks, Mason. This is the only way I can help you without getting myself killed."_

 _"Wrong. Make the bullets for us. Plan this whole thing out. There are plenty of ways you can help that don't involve putting your dumb fucking ass on the line."_

 _They argued for a while before coming to a tentative truce when Eugene suggested they ask for Renee's and Denise's opinions. If they gave him the green light, fine. If not, he was staying on the sidelines. With this bet made, Mason allowed Eugene to tell her the rest of his plan._

 _"I am going to be among the dead. Because for all intents and purposes, I_ will _be dead," he said._

 _"What does that mean?"_

 _"Alpha wants you to bury me? Then bury me."_

 _"Um, like...for realsies?"_

 _"One hundred percent for realsies. If my arithmetic is correct- and it usually is- I should have about four hours before I run out of oxygen."_

 _Mason gaped in disbelief._

 _"Before you run out of..._ Eugene! _You just had a_ literal heart attack _because there wasn't enough oxygen in your body! You- you're fucking insane."_

 _"Cards on the table, Mrs. Porter? It is going to require a bit of insanity to take this bitch down."_

~m~

Another bout of arguing had finally seen them to a stalemate. They'd called Renee and Denise in for their opinions, which had wholeheartedly mirrored Mason's.

At least, at first.

Eugene was a fantastic salesman. Though they resisted his pitch every step of the way, in the end, to Mason's utter horror, he was finally able to convince them.

"Barring any complications, so long as we do this _smart_ , I think...I think maybe we could make it work," Renee had said.

Mason's shock had dizzied her.

"Um, quick question: what the actual _fuck_?"

"Mason-"

"No, Ren, what the _fuck_ are you thinking? There's no way to do this _smart_ , are you fucking _kidding me_?"

It had been Denise that persuaded her- not into agreement, not right away, but to put it to a vote. To let the rest of the family decide. Because she'd known it would be the only way to get Mason to say yes.

And the family, once Eugene had had a chance to sway them...

"We're all worried for Eugene's safety, Mason," Michonne had said. "But if we don't play every card we have, none of us will be safe. We'll all be risking our lives in this war. But we'll all be protecting each other, too."

They'd voted yes. And Mason...

She'd accepted her defeat grimly but gracefully.

And bawled her fucking eyes out the second she was alone.

Later that night was when they'd started searching for the casings, under cover of darkness and the ruse that they were merely fortifying the beach house in preparation for an assault. They were well aware of the eyes in the woods; the Whisperers had been watching them from the moment they'd sent their second emissary. As soon as they'd gathered all the casings they could find, they'd camped out in the kitchen and set to work making the bullets- a difficult feat, though luckily Eugene had enough tools and supplies in storage that it was't impossible.

The next day they'd made the cloaks and the bite-proof gear, going over the plan again and again while they worked until it was drilled into everyone's brain. Admittedly, once all the preparations were made, the plan itself was fairly simple. And founded heavily on the hope that shit- just once in their lives- would go right. Which was mainly, Mason thought, why they'd all kept discussing it. Like they could somehow will it into reality through repetition.

That night, they'd buried Eugene.

It hadn't been hard for Mason to fake the tears, the mourning. Going through the act of digging the grave, carrying him, laying him inside... Like he really was dead. It had nearly wrecked her. She'd held it together long enough for her people to surround the grave. They'd stood shoulder to shoulder, so the watchers in the woods couldn't see it when she handed him what he'd need to survive- the plywood board, the fourth piece in the makeshift coffin they'd lined the grave with, and the breathing apparatus Eugene had jerry-rigged together. A stipulation of Mason's- just in case.

But... _burying_ him.

Actually, _physically_ burying him, hearing the thud of the sand as it covered him, each shovelful heavier than the last...

It had felt like dying. Like burying herself.

So it hadn't been a ploy at all, hadn't been a lie, laying herself next to him. Pressing her face to the sand like she was listening for his voice, his heartbeat, all the while scanning the woods for the Whisperers. She'd thought she caught a glimpse of Alpha in the shadows, but hadn't been certain until Daryl returned to report that she'd indeed been watching, and that she was gone.

The Misfits kept watch to make sure she didn't return as Daryl and Mason dug up the grave. They did so in record time, so that when they finally lifted Eugene onto solid ground, they were both drenched in sweat, light-headed from the exertion.

After that, all that was left was preparing Eugene for the next day. The Misfits had already captured and skinned a walker for him. Denise and Renee checked his vitals and bound his abdomen tight, so that he could move enough to fight but not enough to tear his stitches.

When it was time for him to leave, Mason had kissed him goodbye, reining in the urge to lock him in a room, away from anything that could hurt him. She'd been protecting him from the moment she'd met him. And she knew, she _knew_ he was a fighter, that he'd seen war, that he'd fought his way out of terrible, dangerous situations, but... It was hell, absolute hell, sending him off alone.

Well, not entirely alone. Nick had offered to keep an eye on him from the woods until the fighting started, and then to orbit him in battle. Not just to be there in case his strength flagged, but so that Mason's army knew which Whisperer was Eugene.

And the plan...the plan had _worked_. It had fucking worked, and they were all alive, and Alpha was dead. And it wasn't that she'd doubted Eugene's machinations, but rather that the universe would let them win.

 _I always win, Reaper._

Mason flinched where she sat, perched on the windowsill in her room. She was no longer sure how long she'd been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge, the sun kissing her skin.

Her skin, which was starting to pale.

It was subtle enough that she didn't think anyone else had noticed, at least, not yet. But...

Delicately, she laid a hand over her stomach. Where the veins spreading out from the injection site had started turning black...

The door opened, startling her. She turned, caging her rising disquiet so she could smile as Eugene stepped inside.

"Hey, Porter," she said.

"Hey, Porter, yourself," he replied, smirking. It didn't matter that they'd been married for two years; he'd never stopped looking ridiculously smug whenever he referred to her by their last name. "How are you feeling?"

After the battle with the Whisperers, Denise had been adamant about monitoring Mason's stitches. Mason had tried to protest that it was Eugene who warranted concern, but Denise was having none of it.

"You were _shot_ , Mason, just a few days ago, not to mention all the abuse you've taken from Alpha and those assholes. We need to make sure you're healing up right or it could pose life-threatening down the line. _Don't_ give me that look, either. Renee and I aren't going to tolerate this martyr bullshit from you."

So Mason had conceded to regular check-ups...at least, until very recently.

" _I'm_ fine," she said now. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Sound as a bell, my little pickled okra. Renny gave me the thumbs-up for tomorrow so I will be leaving with them bright and early."

Leaving to search for medical supplies, drugs... Anything that could help them figure out a cure for Sasha. They'd run what tests they could, using up everything at their disposal. They'd already scoured the brewery for supplies, though Alpha hadn't left them much. And every local site that might have provided anything had already been cleaned out by the Whisperers. So Renee, Denise and Eugene would be scouting further out tomorrow, along with Rosita, Tara and Daryl; Daryl had been ridiculously protective of Eugene and Mason since he'd nearly lost both of them.

Mason couldn't help noticing, however, the way Eugene lowered himself gingerly onto the bed, face pinched like he was holding his breath.

"Are you _sure_ you're up for this?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm fine. It is good for me to move around anyway. Keep up my circulation and all that."

"Well, do you want me to go with y-"

" _No_ , May. You'd be useless out there anyway, and that there is a fact." When she frowned, he leveled her with a look. "You're not sleeping again. Stop acting like I haven't noticed."

And the rest of the group with him. They'd cornered her last night and reamed her for wearing herself so thin. It was her fault; she'd accidentally dozed off at the dinner table. Still, they'd been unyielding that she stay home and rest instead of scouting.

"Just once," Daryl had said, "let the rest of us handle things."

It wasn't just that she'd insisted on taking every watch shift, every patrol she could, although she'd been running herself ragged doing so- it made her feel useless, anxious, if she wasn't actively playing protector. But ever since Alpha, the Whisperers...she'd started having nightmares again. They were so bad that she went to great lengths just to avoid dreaming at all.

And then, she supposed, there was the sickness...

"Besides, the group needs you here," Eugene continued. "They feel a whole lot better knowing you're standing guard."

" _I'd_ feel a whole lot better if you stayed," she said, though she knew why he was going- looking for chemicals, anything that might give them an edge in their experimentation.

"I assure you, we'll be back before you can say 'separation anxiety'." He held out his arms. "Now come here."

Under normal circumstances, she might have perched herself in his lap. But her worry over his injury kept her from doing so now; she sat next to him, smiling a little at his disgruntled expression.

"I am not constructed of spun sugar," he said. "Stop treating me as such."

"You're sweet enough to be," she replied and kissed his neck.

The sickness, Nick had told her, was not terribly contagious. Not contagious at all, in fact, unless the blood of the infected merged with a healthy individual's blood.

"You'd have to be trying pretty hard to get someone else sick," was how he'd put it. "Really, there's no fear of you giving it to anyone else doing everyday shit. Just don't donate blood any time soon."

So she felt no reservations kissing Eugene. She felt no reservations laying him down on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, planting kisses over the uninjured skin of his stomach- at least until he started giggling.

It was only when he reached up to remove her shirt that she hesitated.

He would see. He would see the injection site, the veins-

Forcing a calm expression- or at least, one not so panicked- she pulled away gently and shook her head. "We're probably in no shape to do the actual deed," she said.

He tipped his head. "Quick version?"

In answer, she merely pulled down his shorts and kissed her way up his legs before removing his boxers. The jagged cut on his thigh filled her with tears.

He jerked a bit when she put her mouth on him, but there was no pain in the sound he made so she didn't stop. He groaned while she worked him, and her blood flamed with desire, and she wanted him, she wanted him _inside_ of her, but-

The risk of him seeing, realizing she was sick...

She just wanted things to go back to the way they were. She wanted to make love with her husband without restraint. She wanted to walk outside and not see shadows at every turn. She wanted her family to live happy and unafraid.

Eugene's fingers tangled in her hair, and she used this to shake herself from her own thoughts. She refocused on the flick of her tongue, on drawing him deeper into her mouth, on the taste of him. His breathless moans smoldered away her encroaching darkness, at least temporarily, and she lost herself in his pleasure.

Then he gasped. "M- _may_ -"

And she sat up as he shuddered with release, stroking him through the last throes of it. While he lay recovering his breath, she kissed a lazy line from his thigh, up his stomach to his chest, unable to help feeling a little smug.

"Fuck," he panted after a moment. "It should be illegal for someone to be so exceptional at that."

She rasped a chuckle. "If it were, you could call me the BJ Bandit."

"Oh my fucking god..."

She let herself dream as he laid her down, as he burrowed between her legs to return the favor. Let his fingers and tongue sweep her into a haze. Just once, she wanted to believe everything was fine.

Just for now, she wanted to pretend.

~m~

"The scouting group left this morning?"

"Yeah."

Sasha nodded where she laid in bed. Two of the nurses who'd helped them escape from the brewery- Fabi and Mateo- fussed over her, checking her vitals while they sniped at each other in Spanish. From what Mason had seen, they never stopped arguing.

"And everyone else is either patrolling the woods or keeping watch?"

Mason nodded, trying to stifle her unease. "That is correct."

"So now all you have to do today is sit around and worry, huh?"

"What? That's not-"

But one side of Sasha's mouth twitched in a smirk. Mason flushed.

"-what I'm doing."

Sasha just snorted. "How's the sickness treating you this morning?"

Mason sighed as she sat in the chair next to Sasha's bed; Fabi and Mateo began whirling around her as well, still sniping as they took her blood pressure, her temperature.

"Chills, achy muscles, nausea... It's great," she replied.

Aside from Nick, Fabi and Mateo, Sasha was the only other person who knew Mason was sick. The five of them had held these meetings together in secret since the battle. Even more frequently now that Mason could no longer turn to Denise or Renee.

She leaned back to let Fabi examine her stomach; the older woman tutted, her gaze flicking worriedly over Mason's blackened veins. They spun out like petals on a flower, like lightning bursts, creeping past the stitches.

Sasha's had advanced much further. From the injection site on her shoulder, they twined down her left arm to her fingertips, stole across her chest and up her neck to her face. Mason couldn't help thinking that they looked like tattoos...but that just made her miss Dray.

"How are _you_ feeling?" she asked quietly.

Sasha shrugged. There were bruise-like shadows under her eyes, accentuated by the sallow shade of her clammy skin.

But she smiled. Calm.

"Like I'm dying."

Mason's brow furrowed. "You're not dying. We're going to find a cure for you."

Before she could say more, Fabi touched Mason's face and spoke. It was clear she was asking a question but Mason couldn't understand.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I should have Eugene teach me Spanish."

Fabi just patted Mason's cheek and called for Nick, who was standing guard outside.

"She's asking if you've been sleeping," he translated.

"Oh, not- not really."

" _Pesadillas_?" she asked.

"Nightmares?" Nick interpreted.

"Uh." Mason swallowed. " _Sí_."

Fabi nodded, removed something from her medicine pack and held it out to Mason. It was a necklace of sorts, a cord with a collection of stones hanging from it. The stones, Mason saw, all bore smooth holes, through which the cord was threaded. Fabi began speaking and Nick translated smoothly.

"Hag stones," he said. "They're said to be talismans against negative energy. If you hang them from your bed or put them under your pillow, they're supposed to ward off nightmares."

"Oh." Mason smiled at Fabi, her throat welling a bit. " _Gracias_."

Again, Fabi patted Mason's cheek before she and Mateo stepped out. Nick followed, with a promise to return with breakfast. Once they were gone, Mason sagged a bit in her chair.

Sasha's eyes softened. "You look exhausted."

Mason shrugged.

"You should get some sleep."

"No sleep till Brooklyn," Mason mumbled.

"You don't have to keep vigil over me. There's nothing you can do for me anyway."

"I'm a therapy animal. I provide emotional support."

"Yeah, I know what you are. All you've been doing the past week is worrying over everyone else."

"I'll worry about me when it's a real issue."

"It's an issue, Mason."

Mason gritted her teeth. "You don't seem half as concerned about yourself as you do about me."

It was true. Not only was Sasha more content to worry about Mason's health than her own, she just seemed more... _Content._ Just in general. Happier. It was Sasha who had been helping Mason and Eugene keep everyone else in high spirits- and doing a damn good job of it, too.

Sasha was silent for a moment, still smiling, her eyes squinted like she was trying to decide something.

"Mason," she finally said. "I'm ready."

Mason stilled, blinking at her.

"Ready for what...?"

"I'm ready to die."

Immediately, Mason shook her head. "You are _not_ going to die," she snarled.

But Sasha just laughed. "Yes, I am. Alpha knew exactly what she was doing. Probably planned on killing Murph the whole time so there'd be no one left to study this thing."

" _We_ are studying this thing. Renee and Denise and Eugene, they're going to do everything they can. And Nick and Fabi and Mateo are gonna help, too, for as long as they stay with us."

"Murph was a _hematologist_. And even he admitted he couldn't go any further."

"Yeah. Until _us_. _Christ_ , Sasha, you sound like you're just...just giving up!" Mason was shaking, fuming. Tears pricked her eyes.

"That's not what this is. If I were giving up, I would have ended it by now. I'm gonna stick around until this sickness ends _me_ , to give them a chance to study it. But, Mason..." Sasha sighed. "Do you know how hard it's been...doing this without Abraham?"

And just like that, all of the fire flooded out of Mason. She swallowed.

"That night...when he was killed." Sasha shook her head. "I haven't been alive since that night. Not really. After Bob...and Tyreese...I couldn't remember what it was like to _want_ to survive. I couldn't remember- _living_."

Her eyes glistened with tears, but she smiled again- a sad, distant smile.

"Abraham called my bullshit," she said. "Saw right through me. And I'd never felt more alive than I did when I was with him, even before all this. That was how I knew. He gave me _choices_. He gave me _reasons_. And the only reason I'm still here..."

She paused, wiping at her eyes. There were tears sliding down Mason's cheeks, too, but she didn't bother hiding them.

"The only reason I'm still here, is because I know."

"Know what?" Mason whispered.

"That it's not _about_ me. I _know_ , just like _he_ knew it wasn't about him, and you know it's not about you. I stayed because this group is my family, and they needed me to fight for them, and that- that was as close to living as I was gonna get. But now..."

Sasha laughed again, breathlessly, and her eyes shone like she was seeing things Mason couldn't.

"I can feel him waiting for me. It's like...it's like he's just on the other side of a door, and soon I'll get to see him smile again. I'll get to see his face."

Mason's lips trembled. A part of her...a part of her understood what Sasha was saying. A part of her deeply, deeply empathized. And that part of her was able to stifle the rest, which was screaming at Sasha to keep fighting.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"What for now?"

"That you've felt so empty."

"You can't fix everything, you know. You can't protect us from everything, either. That's part of why I'm worried about you."

"Why the hell would you worry about me?"

Gently, Sasha took her hand.

"Why haven't you told anyone, Mason?"

The question brought her up short.

Why hadn't she told anyone?

Because...because...

"Because the others have enough to worry about as it is," she finally said. "Fabi and Mateo can keep tabs on me until we get you sorted out, it's no big deal."

But Sasha just shook her head.

"That's not the whole truth."

Mason clenched her jaw, but at that moment Nick slipped inside with a tray of food. Whatever else she might have said scuttled away to the back of her mind, but Sasha eyed her knowingly, and Mason couldn't stop hearing that question play over and over again.

 _Why haven't you told anyone, Mason?_

~m~

Sasha dozed off around midday, leaving Mason to sit with her thoughts, with her worry, with that question still rattling around in her head.

Why hadn't she told anyone?

She hadn't lied to Sasha. She truly didn't want the others fretting about her well-being, too. Not after everything, not when they needed her to be strong for them.

 _That's not the whole truth._

Mason scowled, but there was no other thought to jump to that would provide relief.

Eugene was out scouting without her. What if they ran into trouble? He was still recovering, he couldn't fight as well as he usually could. She should've gone, she should've kept him home.

And what about Michonne, and Carl? They held themselves together for Judith's sake, and for Theo's, although... Theo would never know his father. The thought broke Mason's heart. She offered what comfort she could, making sure they knew she was there for them if they needed her, but... She knew there was nothing she could do, not really. She knew their grief. There was nothing but to barrel through and hope they made it to the other side.

What about Tanner? What about Renee and Dave? She'd spent every moment she could with them, grieving together as a family, but she knew they would never stop seeing the absence of the rest of their Misfits.

And Sasha. Sasha, who was ready to die, who was hollow and hurting and there was nothing, _nothing_ that Mason could offer to ease that void.

 _Why haven't you told anyone, Mason?_

Abruptly she reached for her iPod. Nothing else was going to drown out her anxiety, and she couldn't stand being alone with it for another second.

She listened to her music on full volume, letting the sound fill her up until there was no more room for her frustration, her grief, her disquiet. She kept watch over Sasha, monitoring her for any signs of pain or distress. At some point, Sasha's nose began to bleed, though she was too deeply asleep for it to wake her. Quietly, Mason held a tissue to it until it passed.

After a while, she began to feel light-headed. She thought at first it was just sleepiness until the room began to lurch around her, bobbing like an ocean wave. She tried to fight it off with all the tricks she knew- fidgeting, fanning herself, yawning to get more air into her body. But her skin grew clammier, cold and hot all at once, and a high, insistent ringing filled her ears.

Limply, she slipped off her headphones and set them on the bedside table. She felt like a breath of mist evaporating under the sun. She was just rising to her feet, hoping to make it to the bed before she lost all consciousness, when the door opened. Nick again.

She must have been as pale as she felt, because his eyes widened in alarm. He said something and reached for her, though he may as well have been speaking underwater for all Mason understood him.

She flopped a hand at him and tried to speak, though she wasn't sure how well her mouth was working.

"I'm okay." The ringing grew louder and louder. The sunlight in the room was garishly bright, nauseating. "Just...passing out..."

The whole room slid to the side, pitching her with it. Her senses faded out.

When she came to again- it couldn't have been more than a few seconds later- she was lying on the floor and Nick was propping her up, wiping a sweaty strand of hair from her face.

"Shit," she puffed. "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for fainting," Nick replied.

"I have a horrible guilt complex, I have to apologize for everything."

Carefully, he eased her to her feet and helped her over to the second bed. She sat on the edge of it with her head in one hand, shivering a bit now that she was covered in sweat. Though she could still hear it, the ringing was growing duller.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. Just give me a minute. You know, I used to pass out all the time when I was younger cuz I would just _run_ until my body couldn't take it... Like, for the longest time I didn't feel like I'd run enough _until_ I fainted."

"Hardcore."

Mason barked a laugh. "Oh, yeah, that's me. Metal as fuck."

Nick sat next to her. "Do you need me to get Fabi or Mateo-"

"No. No, no, I'm fine, just a little dispute with my equilibrium."

"You know, you're not helping anyone keeping this a secret."

"I'm not hurting anyone either, so long as we keep up these little appointments."

Among other things, Fabi and Mateo took samples of Mason's blood and performed the same experiments that Sasha underwent. They did so mostly in one of the built-on bedrooms where they were staying, and Mason trusted their clandestine methods; Nick had said they'd done everything in their power to resist Alpha secretly at the brewery, throwing out what little fuck you's they could. They knew how and when to remain in the shadows, just as Nick did.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this on your own."

"But I'm not. A few of you know, and that's enough for now."

 _Why haven't you told anyone, Mason?_

She flinched a little. "I'm gonna get some water."

She tried to stand, but Nick her pushed her back down. "I'll get it."

"I'm not a fucking invalid."

He grinned. "Oh, so that keeling over before, that was just you swooning in my presence. Okay. _That_ makes more sense."

Mason narrowed her eyes. "Go on. Get the water. When you come back, I'll drown you in it."

He left with a chuckle. While she waited, she reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out its lone content.

Frowning, she examined the syringe. The needle she'd broken into thirds and stowed in the barrel, with a piece of cloth to keep them from rattling out. What little blood remained was crusted to the plastic, dark smudges that might have been no more than dirt.

She'd snatched it up when they were moving the bodies, as well as the first syringe Alpha had dropped and two more stashed on her belt. Those she'd given to Renee and Denise for experimentation. But no one knew about this one. There was no way she could show them without them wondering why it was empty.

Her thoughts drifted again to that day, the plan. Every piece of it flawlessly executed, everyone in her family fighting with chaotic beauty. They'd won, they'd won, but...

Alpha had still killed Murph, damning Sasha to her fate unless they could come up with a cure themselves.

And...at the end-

The door opened again, and Mason scrambled to hide the syringe until she realized it was just Nick, returning not just with a glass of water but a whole tray of food. She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.

"You need to keep your strength up. I figured we could have a picnic. A sicknick, if you will."

Mason snorted, but glanced back at the syringe. Nick sat next to her before snatching it away.

"Hey!"

"Just focus on eating for now," he said. "You can dwell later. Here. I hope you like peanut butter and peach sandwiches."

Mason made a face. "Um..."

But it was actually surprisingly tasty, and Nick smirked as she devoured it.

"My sister and I used to make these all the time. We used to pack our bags with 'supplies' and pretend we were explorers out in some exotic land. The bushes were the jungle. The little patch under the playset was a cave in a mountain. The swings were rocket ships."

Mason smiled. "I used to do that. We didn't have a backyard though. Most of my adventures were confined to our apartment, except for this one time... When my mom finally said I was old enough to stay home by myself for a few hours, I took that to mean I was completely grown up. So I packed myself a lunch and went outside and just wandered around town all day."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah, I'm surprised she didn't disown me that day. And _that's_ why I had babysitters until I was fourteen."

Nick laughed. "Alpha never told me that."

Mason stiffened. "Why would she?"

He had the good sense to look nervous at the rawness in her expression. "I just mean... What she told me about you, I don't know if it was true or not. She told me your people kidnapped you and that Eugene had coerced you into loving him, so... I'd say a good deal of it was just bullshit."

She didn't respond. Everything was still so fresh in her mind, brutally vivid. She'd been trying her best not to think of Alpha at all, except when absolutely necessary.

After a pause, Nick elbowed her. "You should give me the true story."

"What- like, what happened instead of them kidnapping me?"

"Yeah, any of that. Just whatever makes you Mason."

His eyes gleamed- genuinely curious. She hadn't known him long, but she'd seen how he interacted with the others. He had a way of making it seem like he was everyone's friend, that he was interested in everything they had to tell him.

Probably why Alpha had kept him around so long- he would have made a hell of a recruiter.

"Um." She shrugged shyly. "I don't know."

"Tell me how you met Eugene, we'll start somewhere easy."

In spite of herself, she smiled. "On the road. Saving his ass." She told him about wandering the woods looking for her family, about chasing the truck, about bursting out of that cornfield to find Eugene surrounded by walkers.

"And it was love at first sight, right?" Nick said.

"No, I pretty much wanted to wring his neck. The first thing I ever said to him was, 'Move, dumbass.'"

He choked on his sandwich. "Oh my god, that's even better."

"Yeah, I know, right? But...he had me wrapped around his finger pretty quick. He just charmed the crap out of me with his nerdy, painfully-unable-to-relate-to-other-humans awkwardness. The minute he started arguing the finer points of DC and Marvel...it was over for me."

Nick smiled, delighted and soft, and she realized then what a hopeless romantic he was. He reveled in happily ever afters, whether they were his own or someone else's.

She also realized that he was trying to keep her distracted. Apparently he'd recognized that, with so much space to think, everything building up inside her would conspire to eat her alive. Despite his idealism, he was disarmingly perceptive.

Yes, it was becoming more obvious every second why Alpha had wanted to pull his strings.

"That's when you fell in love with him?" he asked. "When he was waxing poetic about superheroes?"

"I fell in love with him..." Her lips twitched, remembering. "Okay, so, when we were on the road, our bus crashed- and _that's_ a long story I'll tell another time, but- we were forced to go ahead on foot. And that night, we stopped at this library..."

They talked for hours about things from Before and After, about the people they loved, places they'd been, things they missed. They kept watch over Sasha while they told their stories, though she slept soundly. And the distraction...it was nice. She hadn't realized before quite how much she needed it.

It dawned on her pretty quickly that she wasn't the only one. Nick talked briefly about his mom and his sister, his drug use and suicidal tendencies and the wedge it had driven between them, all the while sagging with obvious regret. Shame.

So she told him about her alcoholism. She told him about the razor blades and the nooses and the music she'd used to attract the walkers. Some of it was common knowledge among her family. Some of it, she'd only ever told Eugene. And she realized as she spoke, unloading the burdening weight of her demons, that she wasn't revealing these things just because Nick was easy to talk to, or that he understood because he had similar demons.

It was because, after Alpha...

After every bit of salt she'd poured into Mason's wounds...

She was tired of being ashamed of them.

In a way, she thought, Alpha _had_ broken her. She'd broken her open like a geode. After a lifetime of twisting the knife in her own gut, she was tired of regretting her scars, tired of being humiliated by them. She knew there would always be guilt, that was just a part of who she was, but she was tired of letting it decide her own value.

Just like Eugene had tried to tell her, after Rick's death. Just like Rick had tried to tell her in her dream.

The revelation was sudden, and she felt it like a punch. She _wanted_ it. She wanted so badly not to feel as though every misfortune was her fault. And now that she was in charge, now that she was leader... She _needed_ it. She needed to get a handle on her guilt, or it would eat her alive.

Eugene was right.

The narrative in her mind, the one that weighed only her failures...it did not determine her worth.

Rick was right.

It _was_ time.

 _So you gonna stop runnin' your haggard ass into the ground now?_ Merle said.

 _That's not guilt,_ she thought, and...it wasn't. She was the leader now. Whatever blow came, she should take the brunt of it. She was happy to. _I just want to take care of them._

 _Okay, then, girlie, riddle me this: why the fuck ain't you told no one yet?_

And...there it was. The one roadblock. Though...she couldn't place why-

Merle snorted. _Oh_ , _bullshit, you ain't sure why. If only you was as committed to gettin' over your weak-ass denial complex._

 _Well, look, I'd be happy for you to enlighten me with your backwoods wisdom if you'd stop busting my balls for two seconds._

 _You wanna know why I can't just tell ya? Cuz knock, knock:_ denial. _You have to figure that shit out on your own, sunshine. I ain't here to hold your hand._

 _The depths of my hatred for you are limitless._

 _Love you, too, sugar tits._

Despite what Merle had said, despite knowing she still had several things to work through, it was rewarding seeing Nick's face as she confessed her demons. That he knew he wasn't alone, that someone else understood, at least a little bit, of what he'd gone through.

"You went through all that," he said. "But in the end...you found the love of your life. You found your family."

Mason nodded. "I didn't think I would," she said. "I didn't think I'd live long enough to love anything again."

"But you're _here_."

Yes. She was here.

They moved on to lighter topics after that, and soon Sasha was stirring, complaining about a headache but seeming fine otherwise. She was well enough to join the others for dinner in the living room- a fairly quiet affair, but at least she and Mason kept the others from brooding the whole time. Mason was even able to make Judith laugh over dessert, which had Carl and Michonne smiling, too, and for the first time...

For the first time, she actually felt fit to lead them. Not just into battles and across deserts, but all the time in between, too. It clicked into place in that moment. Things were far, far from perfect, but...she could help them heal.

And yet...

And yet that night, trying to fall asleep, she couldn't stop thinking of Sasha's question.

 _Why haven't you told anyone?_

~m~

Mason took Judith, Gracie and Theo down to the beach the next morning. They searched for shells and sea glass and pretty rocks, until they'd gathered a huge assortment. Nick, Tanner and Dave joined them after a while, and though her Misfits were subdued, she had them cracking a few smiles all the same. Nick, it turned out, was incredibly good with kids, laughing with them and applauding all the treasures they found; little Gracie was absolutely smitten.

Once they had all that they could carry, they hiked up to the cliff top. Mason led them the long way round, however, up the gravel drive on the south side of the house instead of the snaking path on the north side; she didn't want the kids to see Alpha's severed head, and she didn't particularly want to remind her Misfits of what had happened, either.

She stayed alert as she led them into the woods, never more than a second away from drawing her fire poker. Nick and the Misfits, too, were vigilant, although there hadn't been a Whisperer spotted anywhere close since the battle.

She didn't lead them far. The little alcove with its salt-washed crosses was just a few yards away from the cliff. There were three more piles of freshly-churned earth than there had been before- one for Dray, one for Charlie, and one for Ashlee. Mason swallowed the lump in her throat and began helping the kids decorate the graves.

Dave and Tanner sat next to Mason, and the bond between the three of them, shadowed by grief but unbreakable as steel...

She offered them the tiniest smile and mouthed the words, "I love you."

The tears on their faces matched her own. Tanner's eyes shone with pain, with devotion, but it was Dave, lips trembling, who mouthed back, "We love you, too."

When all of the graves were bedecked in their new finery, they made their way back down to the beach, arriving just in time to see the scouting group make their return. Her heart thundered in her chest, the pressure on her lungs refusing to ease an inch until she saw that all of them were okay.

The moment she laid eyes on Eugene, it was all she could do not to sprint headlong into his arms and knock him right to the ground. As it was, she did pepper him with kisses until he was a blushing, giggling mess.

Renee and Denise rushed right in to check on Sasha, but not before commanding Eugene to eat first. He conceded grudgingly, and sat outside with Mason and Daryl to share a lunch of tomato sandwiches. Sitting there between them, two of her most favorite people in the world, the question popped up again from the back of her mind.

Why hadn't she told anyone, least of all the two people she confided in the most? Eugene had said they'd managed to find a good deal of supplies, more than they'd originally hoped they would. They were going to do everything they could for Sasha, although...after what she'd confessed to Mason...

 _I'm ready to die._

She flinched and shook her head. Now was the perfect time to tell them. She'd already told her secret nurses that if her own blood and vitals somehow offered something groundbreaking, something that could help Sasha, to share it immediately with Renee and Denise, but... Maybe she should just come clean anyway.

When she opened her mouth to try, however, her throat closed up.

Not now. She could wait a bit longer.

~m~

Eugene came to bed late that night but Mason waited up for him, strumming absently at his guitar while the night breeze swept ocean salt through their bedroom window.

She raised an eyebrow at his smile. He looked tired but hopeful; it must have been a productive day.

"Anything?"

"Well, not exactly, but we were able to dispense with a few inaccurate hypotheses. Narrowing down the list is the tedious, often-disappointing part, so I am just grateful to have made some headway so soon."

Silently he sat next to her and took the guitar, his fingers sliding seamlessly over the frets in a song she recognized instantly. She started singing and his smile widened, eyes closing.

When the song came to an end, Eugene glanced at her.

"It means even more now," he said, and sang the chorus again in his rasping, off-key voice. " _No grave can hold my body down,_ _I'll crawl home to her._ "

Gently, she kissed him. He bumped his nose against hers.

"Years from now, by my reckon...they will tell the tale of how the Reaper raised the Chemist from the dead."

Smiling against his lips, she whispered, "The Resurrection of the Chemist- Phoenix of the Apocalypse."

"Shit... You know, all things being equal," he replied, grinning, "it does sound pretty badass."

Mason stroked her fingers through his hair, remembering his pale skin, gritted and glistening with sand and sweat. "We're all gonna follow your lead," she murmured. "We all need to crawl home from the grave."

He leaned into her touch. "Mmm. Like the Oasis."

The words came back to her then, all at once, words she'd been sure to memorize because they had saved her. They had been a light in the desert.

 _So welcome visions, wraiths, and revenants. Welcome to the fighters who want to be lovers, the survivors who want to be dreamers, the killers who want to be artists. Welcome to the ones who are returning from the dead._

Returning from the dead. Just like they had done countless times before. Just like they had to continue doing in order to keep living these days.

 _He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up, told himself, "Rest in peace, now get up and go to war." And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive._

The walkers died and resurrected, died and kept moving. On this most basic level, how were survivors these days any different?

 _We are the walking dead._

She'd seen her people buried by grief, by loss, by fear. She'd seen her people tossed sideways into hell like fucking rag dolls. Things that should have destroyed them, things that should have torn them apart. But always, always, they fought their way out again. Always they were reborn.

That was who they were.

"I don't think we're Alexandria any more," she murmured. "I think we're-"

A fitful snore cut her off, and she realized Eugene had fallen asleep slumped against her. Her eyes softened. Gently, she slid the guitar from him and set it against the wall before rolling him onto his side of the bed. He was so exhausted he didn't wake once, so it took a bit of shoving on her part, but eventually she was able to move him and cuddle up against his side.

She lay awake for a while after that, relishing the breeze sighing through her hair. It cooled the sweat slicking her skin, and she wished it would do the same for her blood, which was starting to feel hot.

Her head throbbed as she drifted to sleep.

~m~

Some time in the night, she awoke in a cold sweat. The roiling in her gut had followed her from her dream into the waking world; she lay for several minutes, hoping it would go away, trying to distract herself by focusing on the steady beat of Eugene's pulse against her side. And it almost seemed to be working-

Until something hot and coppery ran down from her nose to her lips.

The taste of it-

She gagged, stomach flipping. As quickly and quietly as she could, she snuck out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. She only barely made it in time to pitch herself to the floor before the toilet and vomit.

She tried to keep as quiet as possible, but apparently not quiet enough, as a light knock came at the door.

Her heart froze. They couldn't see her now, not like this-

"Mason? It's just me."

Nick.

She sagged briefly in relief, and took only a second to get up and unlock the door before kneeling again before the toilet. Her stomach turned and clenched, turned and twisted.

Nick raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside, two little shadows- Hobo and The Void- darting in at his feet. "You party too hard?"

She barked a humorless laugh. "Oh, yeah, totes, my dude. Didn't you see me do that keg stan-"

She broke off as her stomach seized violently, and heaved into the toilet. Nick pulled her hair back a moment later, patting her shoulder gently while her body shuddered.

When the retching subsided, she leaned back against the tub and held a hand to her still-bleeding nose. Hobo was quick to curl up in her lap while The Void perched on the tub ledge, mewing earnestly.

"Oh my god, I don't think I've ever felt more disgusting," she croaked.

"Don't worry about it," Nick said cheerfully. "This shade of porcelain really brings out your eyes."

She squinted at him for a moment.

"...Are you just _always_ this big of a flirt?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Okay, well, stop it or I'm dunking _your_ head in the toilet."

He chuckled. "Alright, alright... You know. If you weren't keeping this a secret, Eugene could be the one in here, flirting with you while you blow chunks."

"Like I really want him seeing that."

Except right now, he was the only one she wanted with her.

Nick sighed. "Do you need your secret nurses?"

"No, no, don't wake them. I'm fine, really, just... Nightmares."

"Guess the hag stones don't work too well."

"Well, you know, maybe they would, except these aren't your average, everyday nightmares. These are... _advanced nightmares_."

"Did you just reference Spongebob?"

"Maybe."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"About Spongebob? Oh, hell yeah. That show is my life-"

Nick cut her off, eyes twinkling: "About the nightmare."

"Oh. Nah. All things being equal, I can't even really remember it anymore."

 _That_ was a total fucking lie, but no way in hell was she putting it into words. Speaking it out loud...felt like a curse.

The Void meowed again and pawed at Mason's hair. She reached out to scratch his head and he instantly began purring.

"So why are you up?" she said, glancing at Nick.

He shrugged. "Haven't really been able to sleep for a while now. I think I'm becoming an insomniac."

"Yeah, I feel that."

After a while, Mason got to her feet, much to Hobo's irritation. "Stop glaring at me with those bratty blind cat eyes," she said and stepped up to the sink. She drank a few handfuls of water, then splashed her face with it; her skin felt so hot she was surprised it didn't sizzle.

When she looked up, Nick was watching her in the mirror.

"If it keeps up like this," he said, "they're going to notice."

"I can hide it for a bit longer."

"Mason." His expression was grim. Sad. "You need to tell them."

She hung her head, dripping blood and water into the sink. Her pulse throbbed in her skull.

"Later," she finally said. "What I really need right now is to smoke a bowl. You wanna join?"

"Really?"

"Better painkiller than aspirin. I don't really think I should be taking blood thinners right now anyway."

"I just didn't take this group for stoners."

Mason smiled. "Yeah. Eugene definitely doesn't fit the bill, does he? But he and Dave have been growing it for two years now."

So they went outside, nodding to Maggie and Jesus, who were on watch. They passed the bong back and forth, listening to the ocean waves and talking about things that had nothing to do with Mason's illness. And though Mason enjoyed Nick's company, she desperately missed Eugene. Being away from him now in any way, after everything...it made her feel incomplete.

But the weed worked wonders. Her headache melted away and her senses turned fuzzy with sleepiness. Eventually she bid goodnight to Nick, who sprawled out on the sand as though he intended to sleep there.

She returned to Eugene, hoping her dreams would have the decency to leave her alone for the rest of the night.

~m~

The next day, around noon, Eugene called a meeting with the group. He, Renee and Denise had been working all morning, aided by Nick, Fabi and Mateo once they'd checked in on Mason.

"So while we are still working to establish a remedy for Sasha's illness, we have debunked a previous concern I know some of you shared," Eugene began. "At the start of this, there were a few of you who voiced anxiety regarding the communicability of this particular ugly bug. Our new friends-" he nodded to Nick, Fabi and Mateo- "assured us that unless we were to shoot up using this infected blood, there would be no danger from it. Today we think we can rule out contagion altogether, at least among those of us who also remain immune to the flu virus."

Mason blinked. Carol frowned, leaning forward in her seat on the couch. "How?"

"This illness, it operates like a...a magnet, sort of," Denise said. "It's kind of like how if you have a kidney stone once, you're way more susceptible to getting another. If you're immune to this flu virus, then you're immune, there's no issue. If you're not immune and you get it, it's with you forever."

"Like the walker virus," Carl said.

Eugene nodded. "Yes, sir. That is why we think they interact in such a complimentary manner."

"And why they don't act the same way most viruses do," Renee added. "There's still so much we don't know about the resurrection virus, obviously. These are new breeds."

"And this thing Sasha's got...it's like a mutt then?" Tanner said.

"More like a labradoodle," Eugene said. "Just two separate entities working in concert, so far as we can tell."

Tanner scowled. "Some labradoodle..."

Maggie said, "So what you're tellin' us is, there will only be a cure for those susceptible to the flu?" She didn't sound upset. Just matter-of-fact.

And the way everyone looked at each other then...like it hadn't dawned on them that there might be a cure for everyone else. Their concern had been focused so intently on Sasha's recovery that dreams of a cure seemed frivolous.

But something lit up in Eugene's eyes, and he said, "Not remotely, Mrs. Rhee. This simply means that there is no fear of fatality for those of us immune. Our bodies rejected the flu virus. There is nothing it can do to us now. A cure is entirely different. It depends on a number of factors-"

Renee elbowed him, as he looked as though he was about to spout off boat-load of jargon no one would understand. He coughed.

"But we will wait to disclose that information as it becomes relevant."

"But Sasha was bitten," Tanner said. "Wouldn't that infect us, too? At least with the decomp virus?"

"We're all infected already. It's _death_ that activates the virus that in turn changes us. A bite from a walker is merely a bacterial infection- albeit a severe one. There is and has always been a high probability of infection from a living human bite, as well- walkers just ramp up the lethality of this a few notches with bacterial decay. And while I wouldn't receive a transfusion from a walker anytime soon, Sasha's heart is pumping living, human blood."

"Not to mention the fact that...I mean...she _was_ bitten," Denise said, wincing a little. "Really, by now? She should've already turned. We all know that. There _is_ something miraculous in that."

"There is," Renee agreed. "Sasha is doing really well, considering how aggressive this flu's permutations were."

Mason realized then that they all looked hopeful. It wasn't just Eugene. Whatever headway they were making, they really believed they could cure Sasha. And that hope was contagious; when the meeting was over, the others left in higher spirits.

But...

Mason couldn't help remembering the joy on Sasha's face. Saying that she was ready to die, saying that she was ready to see Abraham again.

How certain she seemed that she would.

Unsure what to feel, Mason ate lunch with the others before heading out on patrol with Daryl. They walked in companionable silence until they came to Alpha's head, where he paused to watch it snap at them from its metal perch.

"I wanted to kill her," he said after a moment. "I wanted to rip her apart for what she did to you and Eugene. Sorry I never got the chance to actually do it."

Mason smiled wryly. "Sorry I deprived you of that."

Daryl shrugged. "Just so long as the bitch suffered." Then he blinked at her, his gaze soft and vulnerable with concern. "You okay? I mean, are you...you okay?"

She laughed a little. "Yeah, I am. Good coping mechanisms. Now, anyway."

But Daryl chewed his lip and then nodded to the gun on her belt, the revolver Nick had returned to her after their escape from the brewery.

"I mean...doin' this. Leadin'. You good?"

Mason thought of all she'd decided yesterday, how it had finally clicked into place for her. How she might lead them. How she might be _good_ at it.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm good."

He nodded again. "I saw you handlin' things like a pro, but I didn't know how much of that was true. You can put up a helluva show now thanks to Eugene. I just...want you to know, I got your back."

She smiled. "I know that, silly."

"I just meant..." He glanced down at the ground, brows furrowed. He was silent for a long time before he said, "I thought it would destroy us."

She didn't have to ask to know what he meant. Her fingers brushed against the revolver, seeing Rick bleeding out beneath her...

"I thought it would, too," she whispered.

Daryl looked up. "It didn't," he said. "And...you know I ain't good with puttin' shit into words, but I just... I'm proud of you. He would be, too."

Her throat welled. She didn't bother blinking back her tears.

"Thank you."

He shrugged, blushing furiously. "It ain't nothin'. Just needed to be said. C'mon. We still got some ground to cover."

By the time they finished their patrol, Mason was feeling sluggish and hot again. There was a coppery taste in the back of her throat that made her stomach churn uneasily, and a faint sheen of sweat on her skin. She was glad to return home, where she could rinse her face, disguise her paleness with makeup, do whatever it took to keep her sickness clandestine.

Despite this, it was a good day. They were a long way from healed, but they were hopeful. Sasha ate dinner with all of them again, laughing and joking like she had no worries left to dwell on. Mason wondered if the others noticed that she hadn't looked so happy in years. The fog of grief hanging over them all...it didn't disappear, but it eased a bit. They were together, and that was enough.

Mason waited up for Eugene again, though he came to bed even later than the night before. He was absolutely exhausted but buoyant with confidence. Sasha was doing well, she seemed healthier than she had since the bite, and they were certain they would find a cure, they were certain.

In the end, they were given no reward for this faith.

Later, in the darkest hours of the morning, Mason and Eugene were jarred awake by Renee. Sasha had taken a turn for the worse.

Eugene leapt up immediately, and Mason made to follow. But she froze halfway out of bed, watching Eugene and Renee disappear into the hall, and swallowed hard.

Her nose had begun to bleed.


	33. Rising, Rising

Okay, guys, so this chapter was originally going to be longer but I realized as I began writing it that it was going to work better split in two. This part and the next part just have two different vibes to them, and it just would have been weird to smush them together. That being said, this one is fairly short and hopefully ya'll enjoy it (although...I'm not sure enjoy will be the right word, but...) The chapter song is "Rising, Rising" by Crywolf, and honestly, both the original and the Bassnectar remix provided stellar inspiration. Anyway, super duper huge thank you to you guys for your reviews and support, ya'll are seriously the absolute best! I hope to have the next chapter out as soon as possible, until then, let me know what you think!

33\. Rising, Rising

"Remember that day you and I found that old ice cream shop? We holed up inside because...because it was so damn cold out."

"Don't talk, Sasha. You need to rest."

"And we couldn't stop laughing because of the irony. We made up-"

"Flavors, yeah. I remember. _Rest_."

"What was yours? Mahogany something..."

"Mason's Rich Mahogany."

"Right! Because we thought it sounded like some kind of weird-ass innuendo. Like, 'come lick Mason's Rich Mahogany, we promise it's not as creepy as it sounds'."

Unable to help herself, Mason snorted. "Hey, that's not nearly as bad as _yours_ was. Sasha's Succulent Silk."

Sasha laughed, too, though the sound was weak. Her face was waxen and sheened with sweat, her lips chapped. "Okay, but it would've been delicious, though. Dark chocolate with caramel swirl? That's fucking decadent."

Lips twitching, Mason nodded. "I'd eat you."

Sasha's eyes twinkled. "Flirting with me on my deathbed? Mrs. Porter..."

Instantly, the lightheartedness died on Mason's face.

"Sasha..."

"What were some of the others? Do you remember?"

" _Sasha_ -"

"Carol's Calamitous Candy Crunch, that's the only one I remember. It was like Russian roulette, wasn't it? Like some of the candies were M&M's but some of them were sour or spicy."

"For that to be characteristically accurate, I'd venture some of the candies were also filled with gunpowder," Eugene murmured, half-asleep slouched against the wall. Renee and Denise were slumped on either side of him, their heads resting on his shoulders.

Sasha grinned. "That would be super spicy."

"The spiciest."

"Your surrogate mom is a savage."

"There is literally no way for me to argue that."

Mason glared back and forth between the two of them. "You," she snapped, pointing at Eugene. " _Sleep_. You've been up all night."

He yawned and mumbled, "So have you."

She ignored him, turning back to Sasha. "You- same thing, but with extra exclamation points."

"I won't rest until we remember everything. We need to."

"Remember _what_? Fake ice cream?"

"The good...out of the bad."

Mason flinched. In her mind, she saw Bob playing the same game with Sasha. She saw him lying in that church study as the fever ate him up, but how...how he smiled saying goodbye. Her eyes stung.

" _Why_?" she whispered, too low for Eugene to hear, if he was even still awake.

And Sasha smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because it isn't all about the end," she said. "The middle...everything that came before this...that was living. And I want you to remember."

Blinking tears away, Mason wiped the sweat from Sasha's face with her sleeve. "Daryl's Dirt Road Delight," she said after a moment. "Coffee ice cream with caramel and chocolate swirl and a shot of rabies."

Sasha chuckled. "So good, you'll foam at the mouth."

~m~

 _"Oh my god- yawn one more time, Reynolds, I dare you."_

 _Sasha glared sternly at Mason, who grimaced and rubbed at her eyes._

 _"I'm sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night."_

 _"Oh, yeah? Well, you better tell Beth I don't care what you can do with your tongue, I need you alert when we're out scouting."_

 _Mason's cheeks flamed. "Hey, that's not- it- it wasn't_ that. _"_

 _"Mm hmm. Sure."_

 _"Get that smug look off your face. We haven't..._ you know _. Not yet anyway."_

 _Sasha's face screwed up in disbelief. "Really?"_

 _"No. Why?"_

 _"Well, it's just...she's all over you. All the time. I think everyone just figured you had already."_

 _Mason stared in horror. "What,_ all _of you? What about- what about Maggie and..." She swallowed. "What about Hershel?"_

 _Sasha stared at her for a moment before throwing her head back and laughing. "Your fucking face! Oh my god, I wish I had a camera..."_

 _"It's not funny, Sasha! He's literally only a few cells from ours! I- I- I ate_ breakfast _with him this morning, and you're fucking tell me he thought...that he thought I... Oh my god, I have to leave the country now."_

 _"Mason, even if he thinks you two had sex, what does it matter? He obviously trusts you to treat Beth right. And even if he_ did _have an issue with it,_ _she's old enough to make her own choices. Really, you know, it's a good thing Maggie ships you two the way she does, cuz honestly I'd be more scared of her."_

 _Mason played with the hem of her coat sleeve, still red-faced. "Yeah, I guess I lucked out in that respect," she muttered._

 _"So Beth wants to wait?"_

 _"Yeah, I mean...we haven't talked too much about it, but, yeah. And I'm fine waiting, I just...I don't want her to feel like I don't want to, because I definitely do. But I don't want her to feel pressured, either. So I'm not sure how to bring it up."_

 _Her first time, with Gina...she'd pretended like she wanted to, but she hadn't. Not really. Not then. She'd been wasted- drunk for the second time, despite how sick she'd gotten the first time. Despite everything her mother had ever warned her about, how it had made her father a monster. The liquor had only amplified her paranoia and guilt, and when she'd tried to tell Gina no, the hurt and betrayal on her face had cut deep inside of Mason._

 _So her first time, her very first time, had not been this perfect thing. And she didn't want that for Beth. She wanted only happiness for her._

 _Sasha patted Mason's knee. "Don't stress about it. She knows you wouldn't try to pressure her. Better to talk it out than to dance around it."_

 _Mason nodded, though she wanted to tell her it was easier said than done. "Have you thought of one for Michonne yet?"_

 _Sasha didn't comment on the change in subject. "Are we still trying to keep them wildly inappropriate?"_

 _"The more demented, the better. I want this to be a place where people take their kids and then walk right the fuck back out."_

 _"Naughty Ninja Nectar. Tastes like peaches and cream...and that one time it turned out she was a top."_

 _Mason cackled. "God help whoever she ends up seducing."_

~m~

They'd continued this game for a while, coming up with crazier flavors until they no longer had anything to do with ice cream. They'd stayed huddled together for warmth, laughing till their stomachs hurt, and even though the temperature had been miserable, it was a good night.

 _The good out of the bad,_ Mason thought, frowning at Sasha, who had finally fallen asleep. Eugene, Renee and Denise were all still slumbering on the floor. The room felt like the aftermath of a storm.

She hadn't been able to broach the subject of sex with Beth, even after talking with Sasha. She'd just been too terrified of fucking it up. They'd never gone farther than second base, though it wasn't as if Mason had never fantasized about more. It was partly why she'd wasted no time with Eugene once they'd finally laid their feelings out in the open- she hadn't wanted to lose a single second of their life together to nerves.

Stifling a sigh, she slouched in her chair, her thoughts lingering on the prison. Her time there had been hard, but she'd loved it.

She remembered the unofficial book club between her and Hershel, how he'd lent her his classics to read and in return she'd scavenged new novels for him. How they'd spent long hours discussing them over coffee or tea. How he'd surprised her by sharing her love for _The Hunger Games_.

She remembered patrolling the grounds with Tyreese. The game they'd come up with once they'd discovered how contradictory their taste in movie genres was- he'd name a romantic comedy he liked, and she'd have to come up with its horror equivalent and argue why they were essentially the same. How each time inevitably ended with them laughing so hard they'd have to stop and catch their breath.

She remembered the parkour races she and Glenn had challenged each other to. How they'd claimed it was a very serious training exercise, but had never been able to keep from laughing during every challenge. How everyone else had started placing wagers on them until it became this big prison-wide thing.

She blinked back her tears; she hadn't allowed herself to cry properly in days, but her head throbbed as though she'd spent the night sobbing. The feverish heat in her veins made her restless. Her heart beat too quick in her chest.

It was getting worse, she knew. The progression of her sickness was only a few days behind Sasha's.

 _(why haven't you told anyone?)_

She bounced her leg, wondering how the others were doing. The sun had been up for a few hours now, and everyone knew Sasha's conditioned had worsened but no one was clear on the details yet. She was just wondering if she should fill them in when Sasha twitched violently.

Mason straightened, reaching for her. "Sasha?"

Sasha's eyes fluttered open but they were so glazed with pain that Mason wondered if she could see anything. Heart pounding, she turned immediately to the trio on the floor.

"Guys!"

They startled awake, still half-asleep as they scrambled to their feet.

In the same moment, Sasha's body seized. She let out a strangled gasp before vomiting a spurt of blood.

" _Shit_ -"

Mason leapt from her chair and rolled Sasha onto her side to keep her from choking. She jerked and retched so violently that she might've lurched off the bed if Mason hadn't been holding her.

Then Denise was there, and Renee, and Eugene. Mason stepped aside to let them work, hovering close by in case they needed her. Her pulse was a jagged thing cleaving at her rib cage.

Finally, the heaving subsided, leaving Sasha curled in a miserable ball on the bed. Blood dripped from her lips and stained the sheets. Her skin looked more gray than it ever had.

For a moment, the trio surrounding her just stood there looking at each other. They all had matching shadows under their eyes, like a physical emblem of the weight on their shoulders.

"She'll need a transfusion," Renee said after a while, and Mason turned, about to see who could volunteer to donate.

"No."

Sasha's voice was ragged and thick with blood, but underneath her conviction was as rigid as it ever was. Everyone stared at her.

"Don't waste their blood...on me," she puffed.

Eugene frowned. "Miss Williams, this is no time to play hero-"

"Eugene. You're my brother...and I love you." She smiled and reached out to pat his hand. "Shut the fuck up. Save the blood for someone it's actually gonna help. I'm okay."

"Hey," Denise said. "You're...we're going to help you."

"But you can't. And that's okay. I'm okay."

"Hey!" Renee snapped, the opposite to Denise's gentleness. " _Enough_. I don't have patience for that fatalistic bullshit. Mason, go find Carol, she's a match for Sasha."

Mason made to leave again, but Sasha called her back.

"Mason?"

Slowly, she turned back. Sasha held her gaze. And the understanding that passed between them...

"You know I'm right, don't you," Sasha murmured. "You feel it."

The others were watching Mason, confused, but she didn't look at them. Disquiet trembled along her bones, but there was such calm in Sasha's eyes that Mason flooded with calm, too.

"Did you remember that night?"

A tear ran down Mason's cheek.

"I'm remembering all of them."

Sasha grinned brightly. Even as her eyes began to bleed.

"Good."

Denise reached out to wipe the blood from Sasha's face. Renee huffed.

"This is fucking ridiculous," she said, and strode for the door.

"Renee, I'm going to die, and every person in this room knows it. So you better stay and hear what I have to tell you."

Renee stopped, her spine going rigid. "The only way you're going to die is if _you_ don't listen to _me_ ," she growled.

But Sasha ignored her, flicking her gaze back to Mason. "You know," she said. "You understand, you always have."

 _The only reason I'm still here, is because I know..._

 _That it's not_ about _me._

Tears cut a path down Mason's cheeks. Now that she'd let them fall, they wouldn't stop. But she offered Sasha a tremulous smile and said, "I understand."

Then she strode back to the bed and wrapped Sasha in a fierce embrace, not caring about the blood or the way the others were staring.

"I love you, Sasha," she said.

"I love you, too, Mason," Sasha replied, hugging her as tightly as her failing strength allowed. Then her lips brushed Mason's ear, and she whispered, too low for anyone else to hear.

"You have to tell him."

Mason stiffened, a jolt of fear running through her. She was suddenly painfully aware of her blackened veins, of Eugene standing behind her, and how he didn't know, he didn't know. A very loud, very insistent part of her wanted to keep it that way. But she pulled back enough for Sasha to see her nod.

"I know. I will."

"You better. Or I will haunt your ass until you do."

Then Sasha released her and sighed- the sound of someone who had waited patiently all day for the moment they could finally crawl into bed and sleep.

"Now, I want you...to go out and tell the others what's happening. I want to say goodbye."

" _Sasha_ , goddammit-" Renee snarled.

"And I want a moment alone to talk to these three."

Mason merely nodded and made her escape, pretending there wasn't a triad of faces watching her in disbelief. As though she'd betrayed them.

~m~

When Eugene came to bed that night, he stood there in the doorway for a moment, watching Mason with a complicated expression. She couldn't get a read on him, and she tried not to let this unnerve her.

"Sasha is of the belief that she is going to die regardless of what we do," he finally said.

Mason kept her face carefully neutral. "What do you think?"

He was silent for a moment, lips thinning. He looked so tired then, his face pale and eyes red-rimmed. A muscle feathered in his jaw before he finally spoke.

"I think...there is a very high probability that she is correct."

So quietly. Like he didn't want to admit it. Like he was afraid of anyone else hearing. It occurred to her that maybe she was the first person he was admitting this to. Maybe even before himself.

Then his chin trembled, and he shut his eyes tight.

"We've hit a wall at a hundred miles an hour and there is nothing else that we can think of to do for her. There may still be a cure. But short of a miracle, her strength is not going to hold up long enough for us to realize it."

For a moment, she was overwhelmed with the urge to tell him. That Fabi and Mateo were experimenting on her own blood as they spoke, that Eugene and Denise and Renee were not as alone as they felt. But it would have taken a courage she did not possess, a resolve she couldn't seem to grasp. Especially with him looking so utterly defeated.

So she was silent as she rose to her feet, strode forward and wrapped her arms around him. He clutched her hard enough to hurt, as though she might be the only thing holding him up, as though she might be the only strength he had left.

They stood there for an eternity while he cried into her hair, the sound muffled. He really didn't want anyone else hearing, didn't want anyone else to see him falling apart.

"I'm tired of losing people," he whispered brokenly.

Her heart splintered down the middle.

"Me, too," she whispered back.

He held her a moment longer before stepping back, that same unreadable expression washing over his features.

"And yet she had you convinced of her fate long before the rest of us." There was no anger in his voice, no accusation. Just confusion.

 _You have to tell him._

But she couldn't. Not yet. Not when he was losing his sister, not when he had already lost four others in his family, not when he was still recovering from the nightmare Alpha had plunged them into.

"Because I think...I think this is what she wants," she said. "I think she's wanted this for a long time, and the only reason she didn't do it herself was because of us. Because she wanted to fight for us. But now here is this door. And she wants to go through it. And I can't find it in myself to blame her for that."

Eugene stared at her, stricken, and she realized...realized he wasn't just thinking about Sasha. The true depth of her empathy with Sasha's state of mind couldn't have been lost on him.

She kissed him gently, hoping to get that look off his face. "This isn't your fault," she murmured. "No one could've fought harder for her."

There was a pause, in which he stared down at the floor. Then, without looking up, he said, "How is the rest of the group holding up?"

"They're...still hopeful."

Eugene flinched. Mason was inclined to agree.

"C'mon," she sighed. "You need to get some rest. Mateo's with Sasha now; he'll wake us if there's any change."

He was clearly reluctant to sleep, and when he finally managed to drift off he tossed and turned all night. Mason stayed awake, soothing him when she could, all the while wrestling with her own edginess.

 _You have to tell him._

~m~

Two days passed in a strange kind of limbo. Sasha didn't get better, but she didn't worsen, either. She continued to allow the medical crew a chance to run their tests, but the little headway they'd managed to carve out had come to a standstill.

Sasha said her goodbyes to the rest of the family, although they remained so optimistic they'd tried to pass it off as nothing more than a visit to a friend in recovery. Mason wondered if they clung to their hope out of stubbornness, defiance, or if they truly believed Sasha would survive.

Mason's own symptoms slackened to almost nothing- she could've been suffering from nothing more than a light cold. Even so, she took great pains to hide that she was suffering at all. Because she couldn't bring herself to feel relieved. Sasha's illness had become lulled them into thinking she was getting better before taking a nosedive overnight, just like Murph and Alpha had claimed it would.

In any case...she could _feel_ it, coiling through her veins in greasy ribbons, biding its time.

Fabi and Mateo continued their secret checkups on her, though they, too, were paused at the same roadblock the others had reached. Day by day, the blackness inking out from Mason's injection site widened its reach, wrapping around her waist to her back and up her spine. Suddenly she was starkly conscious of the clothes she wore, worrying constantly about whether they were covering enough of her skin.

It was on the third day, after another fruitless appointment with her secret nurses, that she was sitting with Eugene and Sasha in the infirmary. She'd ordered Renee and Denise to get something to eat, promising to keep an eye on Sasha while they were gone. It was near-silent, the high chirrup of the heart monitor and the steady tick of Eugene's watch the only sounds in the room.

Then, suddenly, Sasha let out a long sigh and glanced at Eugene.

"I just want you to know that after this is over, I'm giving my body to science," she said.

He stared at her for a long time before his throat bobbed. Quietly, he rasped, "I'm not a scientist."

And she replied, "You are now."

He blinked, looking stunned, looking wretched and helpless. Looking like he had that day he'd confessed to the Lie.

A few minutes later, Sasha's pulse stuttered and the heart monitor flatlined.

Eugene was on his feet in an instant and doing compressions. Mason scrambled out of the room, calling for Renee and Denise, for Fabi and Mateo.

They fought so hard for her.

They did everything they could, but Mason _felt_ it. The finality of the moment. The end.

She wasn't surprised when Denise told everyone to stop, staring down at Sasha's body as though she were lost. She wasn't surprised by the shock and defeat on Eugene's face, or the way Renee shouted a stream of curses, tears running down her face.

She wasn't surprised when, from the back of her mind, Sasha's voice came like a whisper.

 _It's so beautiful._

Just that.

And the _happiness_ in that voice, the dazzling _joy_...

A faint smile touched Mason's lips, there and gone in a heartbeat, even as her own tears fell.

 _Goodbye, Sasha,_ she thought.

But it didn't feel like goodbye at all.

~m~

 _"Mason, wake up!"_

 _"Are we being attacked? Building burning down? Stampeding wildebeests?"_

 _"Oh my god, just get_ up, _you have to see this!"_

 _Mason groaned, uncurling from the pile of tarps and blankets she and Sasha had shared during the night._

 _"Jesus fucking... You know, if our lives aren't in immediate peril, I swear... I mean, I've murdered people for less."_

 _But Sasha just grinned and pointed to the windows in the front of the shop. Mason's mouth popped open._

 _It was snowing, the first Mason had seen of it since coming to Georgia. The ground was already covered in what looked to be an inch of it, and the way the rising sun cast its light, pinks and purples and oranges..._

 _It looked as though the whole world was veiled in an aurora._

 _"It's so beautiful," she breathed._

 _Sasha elbowed her. "So. You still wanna murder me?"_

 _"Yes, but in a more sedate, pastel manner."_

 _"Brat."_

 _It was a long way back to the prison, especially in sodden clothes. But they couldn't stop laughing, even after they'd stopped tossing snow at each other and climbed into the car to make the drive back. It was freezing and miserable and they hadn't found much to bring home but it was a good day anyway._

 _Everything was okay._


	34. Bloodflood Pt II

Okay, guys, so, first off (and most importantly) thank you thank you THANK YOU for your reviews and support. You guys are the absolute best, and I know I say it every time, but there's just no way I could ever say it enough. Second, after this chapter, there are only three left. And that is just...astounding to me. But! Until then, a few things about this one: it starts off kind of dark, but I promise it's not like that all the way through. In fact, a lot of it's pretty lighthearted, and honestly this is probably one of my favorite chapters that I've written. That said, there _is_ a trigger warning for attempted suicide (and also there's brief mention of some drug use, but not, like, anything hardcore lol). The chapter song is "Bloodflood Pt. II" by alt-J, and I don't know if ya'll remember but I used the first "Bloodflood" as one of the chapters in Heathens. I wanted them to be sister chapters of sorts, although I'm not quite sure if I succeeded. Either way, I really enjoyed writing this one. Hopefully ya'll enjoy reading it. Oh, also! I reference the song "Agnes" by Glass Animals in here, as well- and both songs, I highly, HIGHLY recommend listening to. Anyway, I'll stop before this gets any longer. Let me know what ya'll think!

34\. Bloodflood Pt. II

Everything was quiet, the whole world, it seemed, veiled in restful gray. Mason breathed deeply as she walked through the woods, drinking in the scent of salt and spring and wet ash from her confrontation with the Whisperers. It was peaceful and eerie, like a reality just off the one she'd been living.

That morning she'd awoken from a nightmare, one of the same she'd been having since Alpha's death. Back in that brewery, bound by chains while Alpha carved into Eugene.

Except in the dream, Alpha didn't stop. She skewered him until there was more blood on the floor than there was in his body. She laughed as she cut him into pieces. Sometimes she put her mouth to his wounds and drank like a vampire.

In the dream, Mason watched the light leave his eyes. Every time.

And each time, waking up from this...it took her a while to reorient herself. To remember where she was, and that Eugene was alive, he was okay. But his screams still echoed in her ears long after she'd woken. The smell of blood lingered in her nose, like she'd really been breathing it in. The effort it took to quell the resultant nerves and nausea drained her nearly as much as the nightmares did.

The others were still reeling from Sasha's death. Mason had spent the morning grieving with them, doing all she could to comfort them, before taking the patrol shift. To give them all a chance to mourn together without worrying about leaving themselves unguarded, but also to decide when to bury her.

Not everyone had reacted favorably when Mason and Eugene had confessed Sasha's dying wish, to have her body used as a cadaver for their research. In fact, there'd been a lot of yelling between both sides, at least until Mason had stepped in as mediator.

"Sasha wouldn't want us fighting over this," she'd said- a quiet, gentle reprimand. "But we should discuss it. Sasha was our family, and I know...I know the thought of-" She hadn't been able to bring herself to say 'dissection'. "I know we want to bury her. But what we can learn from her, that affects all of us."

"So what do _you_ want to do?" Tanner had demanded. Eyes still red from crying.

Everyone had looked at her, and Mason hadn't known her answer at first. There was no doubt that if there was even the slightest possibility of a cure, it existed in this virus. They'd waited and waited for Sasha to turn, but she never did. They were all still reeling from this as well, even Mason and Eugene; witnessing it in the brewery had been one thing. Witnessing it happen- or rather, not happen- to someone they'd loved...

But how long would it take to get to a cure? Mason had no doubt that they were smart enough to figure it out, but how long would that take?

In the end, it was the memory of Sasha's face, that smile when she'd called Eugene a scientist, that convinced her. She'd been teasing him, but she'd meant what she said all the same.

"This is what she wanted," Mason had replied. "I think we should respect that."

Now she prowled the woods, her fire poker strapped across her back, Rick's revolver on her belt, and her headphones slung around her neck. A part of her wondered if maybe she should have stayed behind to keep the discussion civil, but...everyone had looked so defeated. She hadn't wanted any of them out here, hazy with grief. They needed a chance to catch their breath.

"No wonder they're all so pathetic if you keep babying them."

Horror drove the breath from Mason's lungs. She turned quick enough to make her head spin, the fire poker already in her hand.

Alpha was sitting with her back against a tree, smiling casually as she traced a line through the dirt on her knee. One green eye flicked up to take in Mason's petrified expression, the other no more than a bloody gouge.

"How's that happy ending working out for you, Mace?" she said, in a voice so real, a voice so _fucking real_ -

 _This isn't happening this isn't real she's fucking dead_

Indeed, there were Alpha's guts, spilling out of the slit in her abdomen. There was the bloody stump where her arm had been. And all of it...all of it looked real enough to touch, and...and she could almost _smell_ the blood, just like in her nightmares-

"That was a nice touch with my head, by the way," Alpha continued. "Total me-level savagery and I like it."

 _I'm insane I've lost my fucking mind_

"Maybe, but that's not why I'm here."

Mason blinked, touching her lips, wondering if she'd spoken aloud without realizing it.

"Why...are you here?" she breathed. Talking to her delusions. She really was crazy.

"Sasha wanted you to remember. I'm helping." Cruelty widened Alpha's grin. "You really are good at repression, you know that? I mean, I suppose it doesn't help that you were drunk that night, but _fuck_. I hope you're paying your therapist the big bucks for as deep as she has to dig."

"What night?" Mason's voice failed her, and she had to swallow to clear it. "What night are you talking about?"

"You know the one. It's etched on your skin."

There were a lot of things etched on her skin, but Mason's thoughts went immediately to the scar on her thigh, the one she'd drawn with a kitchen knife. Remembering the moment she'd actually done it to herself, that was foggy. But what came before...

She'd repressed it for years. It wasn't until her therapy sessions with Denise that she'd acknowledged it on a conscious level, and not until Eugene that she'd willingly told anybody.

It was after he'd confessed the full truth about his father, that he thought he was responsible for the suicide attempt. She could see that no matter what she said, no matter how many times she told him it wasn't his fault, he wasn't going to believe her. And she knew...she _knew_ deep in her bones what that kind of guilt could do to a person. She wasn't willing to let that happen to him.

"Yeah, you remember," Alpha purred now, and the memory laid itself out in front of her with perfect clarity.

Standing in her room, trying to figure out what to wear to Gina's party. The front door slamming open and shut and then the sound...the sound of crying. She'd never heard her mother cry before. The sound scraping a knife down Mason's spine before she rushed into the living room.

Sitting on the couch with her mom while she sobbed into her hands, confessing that Mason's father had come to see her at work. Feeling so helpless, so lost and broken, but still trying to comfort her.

"I'm so sick of this," her mother had said, gasping for air between her tears and...

The loneliness. The ragged, abysmal loneliness in her mother's eyes. It felt like a punch to the gut.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Mason had said, because it was the only thing she could think of to offer, because in a way, this was her fault. Dad hadn't wanted a daughter. He would've stayed with her mom if she hadn't been born. And maybe then, her mom wouldn't have had to work such crazy hours to provide for a daughter who'd driven away the person she loved. Maybe she wouldn't have been so lonely.

The tears had finally trickled to a stop, but the absence of emotion on her mother's face had been even worse. Her eyes so dead and distant, Mason had feared she'd never reach her again.

She'd offered to make dinner, although her ineptitude in the kitchen quickly ruled out any actual meal prep- just one more imperfection, one less thing she could provide anyone. In the end, she'd left to bring home some takeout, driving her mom's car even though she wasn't actually street-legal yet. Her mom had said nothing when Mason had taken the keys from her purse. Those dead eyes had continued to stare at the door, as though she were expecting someone to walk through it. Maybe her dad.

While she drove, Mason had fantasized that her dad really _would_ come back. That he'd sneak into their apartment while Mason was gone and spirit her mom away to a life where they could actually be happy together, where they wouldn't have to resent each other, where the love they'd had before could blossom again. Mason would come home to an empty apartment but it would be okay. She'd live there for a while until they figured out that no one was paying the rent, or maybe she could get a job and pay it herself. Maybe she and Gina could run away together. Whatever happened, it would be okay so long as her mom was happy.

Walking through that door, she'd known immediately that something was wrong. There was a prickle of foreboding that washed over her right before her eyes landed on the liquor bottle sitting on the coffee table, half of it already gone. She'd frozen. Her mother never drank. Never kept it in the house.

And then she'd spotted the pills bottle lying on the floor, the pills scattered across the carpet. But- only half. Not even that.

She'd screamed then, calling for her mom, racing through the house until she found her, slouched in front of the toilet. Everything a whirlwind of panic as she reached for her phone to call an ambulance.

But her mother had seized her hand and rasped, "Don't. I threw them all up. They didn't even get a chance to dissolve."

"Mom-"

"I don't want anybody to know."

And so she hadn't told anybody, hadn't called anybody, though only after she'd ascertained that her mom had indeed thrown up the pills. She'd cleaned her up, given her water, tucked her into bed. And once she was sure her mom was okay, at least physically, she'd scoured the house, collecting the knives from the kitchen drawers, the cleaning chemicals from the closet, and all the leftover pills from the floor. She didn't even leave the shavers in the tub; she knew how easy it was to remove the razors, if you knew what you were doing.

It had been easy, far too easy, to catalog and collect anything her mom could use to harm herself. Mason kept a running list of all that shit for herself, but she'd never imagined...her mom...

The liquor was the last thing she'd grabbed before heading out the door. She didn't take her mom's car that time. She'd stashed her trash bag of paraphernalia in their basement storage unit before setting out on foot, drinking heavily from the bottle. She remembered the streets being quiet and mostly-empty, the hours turning from late to early, and she'd known Gina was going to be pissed but she couldn't lose her, couldn't lose her, _couldn't_.

From then on, she'd been afraid to leave her mother alone. Afraid to have anything sharp in the house. Afraid of her mother's antidepressants. Many nights she lay awake wondering if she shouldn't take those pills herself. The guilt had eaten her raw. It became the narrative in her head.

Years later and she'd never told anyone; she hadn't even told Gina, not even that night, not the full truth anyway.

And then one afternoon, that look had come over Eugene, that one she'd recognized. Thinking about his mom. Thinking about his dad. Thinking about Spencer and the War and every shitty thing that had happened since the end of the world.

And she'd told her story for the first time.

All her guilt, every agonizing detail laid bare before him. Every word drawn from that deep well she'd never been able to acknowledge before. And it had been terrible, utterly fucking terrible, but...

She'd been able to bear it with his arms around her. She'd been able to bear it with her head pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

And after that...after that they'd worked with each other every day. Slowly, slowly, convincing each other that it wasn't their fault. To let go of the guilt, bit by bit. Reminding each other of all the good they'd done despite everything else.

The good out of the bad.

And it hadn't been easy. Some days they'd gone backwards. Mason could never quite shed that initial instinct to blame herself whenever something went wrong.

At least until recently.

She straightened now, steeling her spine as she looked at Alpha, her delusion or whatever the fuck she was.

"I remember," she said. "But I'm done letting my guilt control me. My mom made her own choices, whether I had anything to do with them or not. I _exist_. That's not my fault."

But suddenly Alpha was gone, and in her place sat Negan. Dressed in that same leather jacket and red scarf he'd worn the night he'd killed Glenn and Abraham. Lucille was perched on his shoulder, dripping gore. There were specks of blood like freckles on his face.

"Maybe that wasn't your fault, doll, but there were other things that were," he said, grinning.

Instantly, she saw again that baseball bat crushing Glenn's skull, heard his last labored words to Maggie, felt the shudder of Daryl's sobs in that cell.

"That's bullshit."

The voice didn't come from her but from someone next to her. And she knew she had truly lost her mind when she turned to find Glenn standing on her right, glaring at Negan with disgust.

" _You_ decided who to kill that night," he went on. " _You_ went through with it. That had nothing to do with Mason or Daryl or anyone."

"Ain't nothing truer than that," said a voice on her left. "If you're gonna make an omelet, at least have the figs to own up to cracking the eggs."

Abraham. Lips curled in Negan's direction like he'd found a cockroach in his cereal.

Mason swayed a little on her feet.

 _Maybe it's the fever,_ she thought. _Making me hallucinate._

But she didn't feel feverish. She didn't even feel sick, just...strange.

Negan ignored the others, staring solely at her. "I saw the depth of your darkness, little Reaper doll. Firsthand. I know the shady shit you've done- the shady shit you _wanted_ to do."

"I'm not hiding from it," Mason replied. "I'm not some pure thing. I don't want to be. I'm not ashamed of the things I've done, because I did them all for the people I love."

Saying it out loud...it loosened something in her chest.

Negan threw her one last grin and then he was gone. Just like that.

Mason blinked, glancing from side to side. But Glenn and Abraham were gone, too, and she wondered if she'd had some sort of vivid waking dream.

A bit unsteady now, she continued on her way, telling herself it was just stress, it was just exhaustion, it was just the sickness. She made one complete circuit through the woods and found herself back at the graves, pausing at their edge. The shells and sea glass glistened dully in the strange light. At sunset, she imagined they looked exquisite.

Her thoughts drifted as she eyed them. To Rick, to the Misfits. Once they'd made it over that initial hurtle, forgiven him for how he'd treated Eugene after the War, the Misfits absolutely loved Rick. In no time at all, they'd established themselves as his new adoptive children, and succeeded many times in appealing to the immaturity he might have otherwise kept hidden.

Like the day they had the _Harry Potter_ marathon, to celebrate Daryl finishing the books. Though the Misfits- and Carl and Enid- had proposed it, everyone joined them at one point or another. Carol made cookies for the occasion- avocado butterscotch cookies, which were absolutely divine. The Misfits, of course, dressed up as much as they could, but it had surprised everyone when Rick came waltzing into the living room. He'd drawn glasses and a lightning bolt scar on his face, and slung a black sheet over his shoulders like a makeshift cloak. Judith had been beside herself with glee. Michonne had laughed herself hoarse.

"Yeah, and to this day I have no idea why."

Mason stiffened, but a second voice chimed in, "Maybe it's because you're nearly as big a geek as Eugene is?"

"I feel so attacked right now."

It wasn't as bad. It wasn't as bad as hallucinating Alpha, or Negan, but...

"Am I insane?" Mason asked quietly- herself or the voices she wasn't sure which.

"Do you _feel_ insane?" Charlie replied.

She didn't. But then again...could someone know they were losing their mind? Were they aware of it?

"You hear us in your head all the time," Dray said, leaning against a tree next to her. She let out a shuddering sound that might have been a sob or a laugh. "This isn't that different, is it?"

"Why is this happening?" she whispered.

"You know why," Ashlee said quietly. She was perched in the branches of a tree overlooking her own grave, looking soft and sad.

"I don't actually, that's why I'm asking."

"Remember the time," Charlie said, grinning, "you and Eugene ate those shrooms?"

"What does that have to do-"

"And you blasted M83 from that rooftop in the city and you both swore that you could touch the music?"

She remembered. The Misfits had found the mushrooms scouting one day and swore to share it among themselves in portions- that way no one was under the influence without someone else to watch their back.

It had been the first time Mason had ever experienced it. She'd half-expected a bad trip with as many shadows she carried, but most of it...most of it had been incredible. She remembered feeling in love with the world, feeling in love with her life. She remembered kissing Eugene and tasting neon and starlight. She remembered knowing that her soul belonged to the music, and the night, and to Eugene's soul, and that if she'd wanted to, she could have dissolved right into everything she loved like sugar into water, like dawn into day.

"You've been calmer since then," Dray said. "I think it helped a bit with your coping mechanisms."

She thought he was probably right, but all the same she said, "Or maybe it unhinged something in my brain and that's why I'm seeing ya'll now."

Dray smiled patiently. "You know that's not true."

"Then why-"

"Remember back at the mountain house, when you and Eugene were training us," Ashlee cut in eagerly, "and we all watched _Labyrinth_?"

In spite of herself, Mason smiled. The Misfits had been ridiculously delighted to learn that both Mason and Eugene were fans of the movie, and when they'd watched it together, they'd all ended up singing and dancing and acting it out in its entirety.

"Like our very own _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ ," Charlie said.

"Remember when we were out gathering decomps for the War," Dray said, "all of us crammed in that truck together, and your iPod started playing that awful song by Florida Georgia Line?"

Charlie made a face. "Ugh, that 'Cruise' song?"

"Seriously, Mason," Dray said, laughing. "I thought you had better taste in music than that."

Mason grimaced. "I seem to remember you _both_ singing along with the rest of us."

"Pack mentality. Group sing-alongs to cheesy top 40 are a form of brainwashing."

She, Eugene, and Renee had all been squeezed into the cab of the truck, the other Misfits riding in the back, and when the song had come on they'd all let out a chorus of something that could only be described as a groaning cheer. Eugene had raised an eyebrow at Mason, and she'd offered him a sheepish smile in return before launching into song with the Misfits.

But he'd surprised her by joining in- neither of them had expected the other to harbor such a guilty pleasure. And in the end it had been all eight of them, howling the lyrics as Eugene drove them through the woods, loud and laughing and silly with the simple miracle of being together.

"I remember," she said, smiling. But slowly the smile faded and her lips trembled. "Why? Why is this...happening?"

The three Misfits smiled at her, but it was Rick who answered.

"Well, because you need to remember."

"I don't need to hallucinate to remember."

"Mason," Dray said, and his voice was so calm. So kind. "Who says you're hallucinating?"

She jerked back immediately, hands flashing to her ears like she could block out the sound of their voices. "Stop," she said. "This isn't real."

And before they could say another word, she turned on her iPod and began to sing. In the past, it had been the only way to quiet the voices. She hoped it was enough now.

Without looking back, she strode away from the graves, setting a quick pace as she resumed her second circuit through the woods. She distracted herself by wondering how the others were faring back at the house, if they were close to a decision yet. She was so wrapped up in this, in weaving a fence between herself and her delusions, that the walkers took her by surprise.

They approached from the depths of the forest, lured by the sound of her voice. Their sudden silhouettes against the gray scar left by Mason's chemical fire startled her, and she chided herself for letting her guard down. She planted herself in one spot, waiting for them to come to her, and as she did, the song changed.

Briefly, the breath caught in her throat.

Her favorite song. The sad one. "Agnes", the one she'd told Eugene she wanted played at her funeral.

Quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the advancing dead, she sang.

She held her ground as the walkers closed in, remembering all the times she'd done this before, remembering the very first time. Remembering how she had once felt a kinship with the dead, and how much she'd wanted to join them, and how far she'd come since then.

A heartbeat later, a twig cracked behind her and she turned, right into another cluster of walkers. She hadn't heard them creeping up with the music, with her deaf ear.

She gasped, scrambling to back up.

The closest walker merely looked at her with its fish-pale eyes, nostrils flaring as it sniffed. The one at its left cocked its head and scented her, too, but neither of them made a move to attack.

Mason stared as the song continued without her. The walkers stared, too, shambling a bit from side to side but never moving forward.

Heart pounding, she took a step back.

The dead followed, but not as though they were hunting her. They watched her like curious birds, teeth clicking.

She took another step back and they followed again. Not once did they go for her throat.

Her heart stilled.

Behind her, the other group of walkers gnashed their teeth. When she turned, there was only a few feet of distance left between them.

 _You can feel it,_ Sasha had said.

 _You know why,_ Ashlee had said.

A strange calm stole over her.

Slowly, Mason closed the distance, stopped in front of the walkers, and held out her arm.

The walkers sniffed at her pale skin.

None of them bit her. As if she were veiled. As if she were one of them.

And in that moment, she felt it. She knew.

More walkers were lurching through the woods, drawn by the music. She stood in the center of them as they swelled around her, spreading her arms like wings so they could take in her scent.

Not one of them attacked. They began to walk in drowsy circles around her like they had with the Whisperers, heads cocking this way and that, entranced as she sang for them.

 _I am the Reaper,_ she thought. _I am the Odd Siren._

 _You can feel it._

 _You know why._

Surrounded by the dead, a slight, tired smile on her face, she began to cry.

~m~

"Remember the first time Judy saw your scars?"

The voice was Lori's, and Mason wasn't terribly surprised to hear it. She smiled where she lay, sprawled on her back in the middle of her walker horde. They continued to shamble around her, the only beating pulse in a storm of dead hearts, never straying too far; the music held them in place like a magnet.

"I remember," she murmured.

It was a few months after they'd found the beach house, and the whole group was out enjoying the sun and the water. After an eternity of agonizing over it, Mason had decided to wear a bikini for the first time in years. Eugene had assured her that she looked beautiful and that no one was going to judge, but though it was fairly modest, it still left a good amount of scars exposed.

She'd been self-conscious the whole time, even though a part of her knew it was ridiculous. She'd known Eugene was right- they wouldn't judge her. Besides, they all had their own scars. But no amount of rationalizing could combat years of conditioning, and the urge to cover them up nearly won out.

She'd been just about to head inside and change when Judith ran over, proudly showing off handfuls of little seashells she'd gathered. When she'd seen Mason's scars, however, she'd dropped all of them and pointed.

"Where you get those?" she'd asked, a dent forming between her brows.

And Mason had opened her mouth, prepared to make up some story. But under Judith's wide, earnest gaze, she'd found she couldn't come up with a single lie.

"I gave them to myself," she'd said. "A long time ago."

Judith's eyes had widened even more with concern. "Why?"

Mason had smiled gently. "Because I used to get really sad sometimes. And I was trying to make the sadness go away."

"Did it work?"

"No. That's why I stopped."

Judith had frowned at her a moment longer before grabbing Mason's hand. "Come with!" she'd said, tugging until Mason had gotten to her feet and followed Judith back into the house.

She'd watched, bemused, as Judith retrieved a little sticker book from one of Carl and Enid's craft drawers. She hadn't understood until Judith reached up and placed a little flower sticker on one of her scars.

Mason had blinked, throat welling.

"Stickers will make you not sad anymore," Judith had declared, and proceeded to decorate her sides and stomach, where the scars were clustered the thickest. It had taken a serious effort not to cry; by the time Judith was through, her head hurt from holding back tears.

But she'd walked back out onto that beach again, Judith holding her hand and babbling at the speed of light, and she'd felt less ashamed of her skin than she had in a long time.

"Remember all the times you'd try to sneak tastes when Carol and Eugene were cooking?" T-Dog said. "And Carol got so fed up, she forced you to take cooking lessons?"

Yes, until she'd witnessed firsthand how catastrophic Mason was in a kitchen. How Carol and Eugene could end up relatively clean while Mason had flour in places she never thought it was possible to get it. How their cookies came out looking neat and edible, while Mason's came out deformed and burnt.

Finally, Carol had accepted defeat. "So long as you don't set anything on fire, you can be the designated taster," she'd said.

Mason had agreed that this was probably best. "I'm really good at eating," she'd replied.

"How about when Eugene used to bury you at chess," Hershel said, "and so you had Morgan teach you how to win?"

Morgan had become her secret guru, and with his lessons and her spite...

"I whooped Eugene's ass," she said, grinning.

And she had. She remembered quite clearly the disbelief on his face when she'd stood up and shouted, "Checkmate, motherfucker!"

Hershel chuckled. "That you did."

"Remember hosting that fake radio show with Enid?" Noah said.

How could she not? What had started out as an innocent music-sharing session had mutated into a monster when Mason and Enid had discovered that they shared each other's particular brand of demented humor. Wearing matching sunglasses and hipster clothes, talking in obnoxious announcer voices, coming up with ridiculous ads ("Feeling down? Hate your life? Lost your will to live? Well, come on down to Big Willey's Bait and Tackle. We can't sell you a sense of purpose, but we can give you worms- not those kind, the other kind. Go on out and fill the void with fishing! We promise, it works!")

They'd even taken to ambushing the rest of their family for "interviews", which more often than not were simply questions like: "Ever eaten a mango?" "Would you ever marry a mango?" "How old were you when you realized we're all just specks of dust in the void?" And though the others would roll their eyes and groan, it became a tradition anyway; whenever Mason and Enid broke out their fake microphones, the others braced themselves for interrogation, followed by ninety commercial-free minutes of bomb as fuck music.

"No, no, remember how you and Gabriel used to jump out and scare everyone, because, you know, you're both demented ghouls?" Abraham said. "And finally everyone had reached peak tolerance for your shit, so they ganged up on your asses and scared you into next year?"

Mason tried to scowl, but her giggling ruined it. No one could ever deny that her and Gabriel were pros at scare pranks, just as she couldn't deny that the others _had_ truly delivered on their revenge. In retrospect, they should've seen a retaliation coming; Mason knew damn well that Eugene could be fucking devious when properly motivated. One elaborate scheme later, in which the others had Mason and Gabriel convinced that _Grudge_ -like entities were crawling straight up from hell to kidnap them, the two of them had sworn off their "infantile, shock-value shenanigans" as Eugene put it.

"Hoo, Satan's sizzlin' sausage," Abraham crowed. "You screamed loud enough to wake...well, us."

"Shut it, Red."

" _I_ remember all those times ya'll played capture the flag- you know, like you was eight years old or somethin'," Merle said. "I remember this one time in particular- it sticks out to me like a good pair of tits but I ain't sure why... How 'bout it, Mason? You got any ideas why?"

Her cheeks reddened. She knew exactly what time he was talking about.

Maggie and Eugene, as per usual, had been the opposing team captains. Wily and competitive, they took their rivalry _seriously_ ; it felt like a goddamn war each time they played and this time in particular had been no different. Eugene's careful planning had given his team a leg-up, and it seemed they were just a few well-executed moves from overwhelming Maggie's forces.

Of course, when Mason- who was on Maggie's team- had pointed this out, a look came over Maggie that Mason had learned to duck and cover from. Narrowed eyes flashing like detonating bombs, Maggie had speared her with that gaze and said, "Do you wanna win, soldier, or do you want that chicken-livered number-cruncher to rub our noses in it?"

Mason, being the competitive beast she was, had saluted her and said, "I will do whatever I have to to win this war."

So Maggie had unbuttoned Mason's shirt to reveal a generous amount of cleavage, then rolled up a good portion of the bottom hem and tied it off to show her midriff.

"Now get out there and strut your stuff for victory, you glorious little pin-up doll," she'd commanded before sending Mason across enemy lines.

It hadn't escaped Mason's notice that Tara and Daryl had stared blatantly as she pranced right through their defenses, but she was too focused on winning to feel self-conscious.

She remembered Eugene's eyes bulging at the sight of her, flouncing past him in a manner she would blush about later; he'd been so distracted that her team was able to sneak past him and capture the flag. After that, he'd been quick to rule out "seductive sabotage" as a fair way to win the game.

"Remember the time you and Michonne were out scouting, and you found those plastic lightsabers?" Glenn said.

They'd been searching a toy store for things to bring back for the kids and inevitably gotten distracted. Being the mature adults they were, they'd challenged each other to a lightsaber duel and chased each other around the store, climbing the racks, throwing stuffed animals and generally demolishing the whole place. Michonne had emerged victorious, declaring herself a Jedi master. Mason had then declared her a butthead master and Michonne had tickled the crap out of her until she'd taken it back.

She smiled, eyes stinging. "I remember."

The memories didn't stop. The spirits didn't either, reminiscing right alongside her, even if they hadn't been there to experience it in life.

Bob reminded her of the day Heath had come to her with poetry he'd written, insecure because he didn't think it sounded sophisticated enough. She'd responded by writing a parody poem in an old-timey dialect ("How doth this precious mortal existence conduct itself with your psyche?" "It doth suck the big one."), and ever since it had become their new favorite thing.

Tyreese reminded her of all the illustrations Carl left for Mason, nearly every morning, and the captions she thought up for them. (Most recently a drawing of a smiling skeleton, above which she'd written, "What's up? You got a _bone_ to pick with me?" And above a second, frowning skeleton she'd written, "I swear to god, Stan, I will launch you into the fucking sun.")

AJ reminded her of the time she'd asked Daryl if he needed a hand before realizing what she'd said, and how he'd laughed harder than she'd ever heard him laugh at her mortified expression. The sound so infectious it had gotten her and Eugene laughing, too, until all three of them were red-faced and crying.

Tara trying to teach her how to skateboard, and the subsequent bruises.

Girls' nights with Rosita, drinking and dancing to all the music they used to listen to when they were younger.

Nerding out with Denise over the Warrior cats series, picking out each other's warrior names.

Turning absolutely _everything_ into a competition with Jesus, using a scoring system only the two of them could understand.

Holding Theo in her arms for the first time, Rick asleep next to Michonne in her hospital bed.

Spending the night in a nearby lighthouse with Sherry, listening to music and talking until dawn.

The memories kept coming. She swelled and swelled with them until she thought they might spill out of her and sink into the ground, and what an exquisite notion. That every beautiful thing that had happened to her might take seed in the earth, to grow when she...when she was gone.

Because she'd been thinking about what Sasha had told her, about the question.

 _(why haven't you told anyone, Mason?)_

She'd been thinking about her dreams, and the feeling creeping through her in tandem with the sickness.

 _(you know why)_

She'd been thinking about every other time she'd been surrounded by the dead, and how each time, she'd emerged different.

This time would be the most different of all.

The walkers milled around her, growling quietly. The music soaked her like water. She might've spent an eternity there, letting the world pool around her.

When the walkie talkie on her belt crackled to life, the dead cocked their heads and sidled closer, no more than curious animals.

"You there, Mason?" Daryl's voice, nebulous with static, sounded less real than the voices of the spirits. She was overcome by the fierce, fleeting notion that he was speaking from the opposite side of a veil, a window.

"I'm here," she said.

There was silence for a moment on the other end, and then.

"We've decided. We're gonna bury her."

Mason closed her eyes briefly. Nodded. And replied, "I'll meet you at the graves."

She rose to her feet and the walkers watched her. She smiled at them, held her hands out like was offering something.

"We're the same," she told them, and she felt the truth in her bones, in her darkening veins.

"I am the walking dead."

One by one, she slayed them all, spraying blood with her fire iron. No resistance came from any of them, no sudden realization that she was prey. A tiny part of her almost felt bad, but she ignored it. They might have seen her as one of them, but that wasn't how they'd see her family.

Still, even this... Even killing walkers, the fire in her was different. No longer fueled by rage, or fear, or grief. No longer consuming. The flames had settled into something soft, something like starlight.

When the dead lay sprawled at her feet, she picked her way delicately through them. The cloud cover was finally starting to clear, moving east. The spirits kept silent as she made her way back through the woods, but she could feel them shadowing her steps.

Rosita and Tanner were already at the little cemetery, digging the newest grave. Mason jumped in to help them finish up, and they were done in time to see the others arrive through the trees.

Eugene led the procession, carrying Sasha. Daryl and Renee flanked him, and the others followed in silence, their hands full of beach rocks and seashells, and...

Watching them, Mason was overcome by a sudden wave of sadness. Of something like homesickness. Again, she was struck by the sensation that she stood on the other side of a window, looking in at the rest of them, but no one questioned the tears in her eyes.

~m~

The sky was finally clear, the sunset brilliant above the ocean waves, but a whisper of rain carried itself to Mason, gentle and sweet. She smiled.

"It's about time."

Beth grinned and perched herself on the rock where Mason sat, so close Mason could have reached out and touched her.

"Sorry to keep you waitin', Mrs. Porter."

The sinking sun cast her hair in hues of gold, brought out the little bits of green in her eyes. She looked so real...

Beth blinked in that too-innocent way of hers and said, "What's that look for?"

"I've been thinking a lot about things," Mason said. "Like for instance the dreams I had, about the grave on the shore? After burying Eugene, I thought...they were about him. That they were trying to warn me about Alpha, and what I'd have to do to beat her. But that's not it, I mean, not entirely. They...they're about me."

Beth didn't say anything but her smile widened.

"I've been thinking a lot about you guys, too," Mason continued. "All you spirits. I've been thinking that...maybe...you were never delusions at all. Never just voices in my head. You guys...you really are spirits, aren't you? Ghosts, whatever. I think I knew for a while, and I just kept lying to myself, like I do with everything."

"But not anymore," Beth said cheerfully.

"No. Not anymore. Better late than never, right? And...I've been thinking about the plan. How we won against Alpha. I couldn't get it out of my head and at first I wasn't sure why, but now I think it's because... It worked. Perfectly. And right now it should be about recovery, you know? Healing my people? But...there's this feeling of unreality to it. Like I'm not really here, like I can't really start. Like..."

 _Say it. Say it._

She sighed. "Like no matter what, no matter where my family is headed...I'm not going to be a part of it."

The sadness that hit her then...it was ferocious. It took her breath away. She struggled to say her next words, though the tears choked her- because she had to say it, she had to.

It was time.

"I'm gonna die."

And there it was.

The reason she hadn't told anyone, the reason she'd been so hellbent on denial, the reason the spirits had come to her today. She hadn't wanted to tell anyone she was sick because she'd known, she'd known all along...

There was nothing they could do to save her. She'd known it from the moment she'd looked down and seen that syringe jutting from her stomach. And she couldn't deny it any longer. Not when the walkers had flocked to her without trying to take a single bite. Not after burying Sasha.

She was dying.

She was going to have to say goodbye.

And the pain of that...she wasn't even sure where to begin processing it.

Beth watched her as though she could read all of this on her face. Somehow she managed to look sad and kind and happy all at once.

Gently, her fingers slipped through Mason's.

So real. So fucking real.

Then she said, "Remember the time you told Eugene you thought he was cute, and he was so startled he ran into a tree?"

Mason blinked. The memory unfurled like a rose- back in Georgia, when they were still searching for their scattered family. Slowly, she smiled, even as the tears ran down her cheeks.

"Or the time you two were out scoutin' and spent the night in that indoor playground?"

Crawling through the tunnels like they were kids again, wrestling in the ball pit, falling asleep on the net overlooking the obstacle course; they'd had so much fun they'd almost been tempted to live there.

"Remember the time you and him got drunk in the shower, and you slipped and fell and took him with you, and you both were laughin' and screamin' and knockin' everythin' over tryin' to get back up?"

Abraham had come pounding on the door, fully prepared to drag their naked corpses out of the bathroom.

Yes, she remembered.

She remembered how flustered he'd gotten when, as thanks for binding her head wound after the bus crash, she'd picked him a bouquet of wildflowers. How he'd blushed and stammered and carried them forever in that damn rucksack of his.

She remembered picking ticks out of each other's hair while out on the road. His utter excitement when he'd scavenged light up shoes in his size. How everyone tried to get him to laugh when he was drunk, because he'd always let out this snorty little cackle.

Yes, she remembered, she _remembered_. Everything. Every moment. And it filled her with such joy, and such agony.

The look that came over him whenever he listened to her iPod, like he was trying to absorb every lyric.

His tender heart, rescuing bugs and birds and all manner of creatures he could.

How he started hiccuping if you tickled him long enough.

His shyness, down on one knee, proposing to her, and his smile when he'd watched her walk down the aisle, and his hand in hers, and their matching Wolf scars, and the way he kissed her, and his eyes, and god, _god, everything_.

She let out an unsteady breath and Beth squeezed her hand and the setting sun cast them both in its dying light.

 _Yep,_ she thought, smiling, tears streaming down her face.

 _This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker._


	35. Outro

Hello, guys. So, firstly, thank you thank you THANK YOU for your reviews and support, ya'll always make me so happy. Secondly, today's chapter song is a special one, "Outro" by M83- simply gorgeous, you really, really should listen to it. Also, the song Mason is listening to right at the beginning is called "The Day That I Die" by Good Charlotte- a throwback from my youth that I will never not love. As always, I hope ya'll enjoy. Please let me know what you think!

35\. Outro

 **Mason**

Mason grinned as she ran, her music full blast, the sun shining in a perfect blue sky. Everything was so lucid, so fucking stunning it was unreal. As if the whole world- or perhaps just her perception of it- had cleared in the wake of her recent revelations.

Her blood beat hot in her veins, but with more vitality than she'd felt in weeks. Her muscles burned in the best possible way. She was aware of every breath, every thud of her heart like she never had been before. She felt like she was coming alive all over again. Which, she supposed, was just a little bit cosmically ironic.

Still... Two days since burying Sasha, and though Mason missed her, though she shared her family's grief, there was a...brightness in her. It was the strangest little spark- thick with sadness, but buoyant with peace. She and Sasha had been sisters in their sickness and their secrets; now, too, Mason thought she understood the calm that had come over her, at the end.

As she ran, she caught glimpses of the spirits around her. She had not stopped seeing them since acknowledging her death. Their presence comforted her when that brightness in her flickered, when she thought too long about her family. About Eugene, and how she was going to hurt him...

But the music was loud. The spirits were there. Maybe it was selfish, but she just wanted a little more time, just one last day to fit everything in.

She smiled wider and ran on.

~m~

The universe was generous. She got in one last perfect run before she felt it.

It crept in subtly, but quick, marching through her veins in relentless, buzzing waves. The pain. The heat. A deep-rooted weakness she could not shake. She blinked where she stood on the shore, dripping sweat, stretching her sore muscles.

Suddenly it seemed important to notice everything.

The birds swooping overhead, caught between the sea and the sky. The sun bronzing her skin. The tide kissing her bare toes. This place, this place that she had dreamed about for so long... It was so beautiful...

A trickle of blood leaked from her nose.

She began walking, rubbing her nose on her hand. Each step quickly became harder than the last. A high, clear ringing filled her ears, and a billowing dizziness dogged her heels, as though trying to cut her tether to gravity. She struggled to wrap her head around how quickly she'd declined, like the sudden drop from the highest peak of a roller coaster. The house wasn't far, but suddenly it seemed a world away.

She staggered a bit through the sand, and for a moment she wondered how she looked, this limping, pale thing on the shore. Did she look like a walker? For one terrible moment, she felt like one.

Still, she pushed forward, and it seemed as though she might make it, that she might be able to sneak into the house and clean herself up before anyone noticed the blood.

Then the nausea hit.

In one sweeping punch it had her doubled over in the threshold of the door, groaning. Through the tears in her eyes she noticed Carol and Dave, who were coming out of the kitchen, startle and reach for her. They said her name but she barely heard them.

Bile rose in the back of her throat, thick with blood...

She lurched forward, pushing past them. Her movements were clumsy, tear-blind; she slammed her hip into the counter as she whirled into the bathroom. Her knees cracked hard on the tile floor and then she was vomiting, violently, wretchedly, into the toilet.

When the heaving subsided, leaving her breathless and woozy, she wasn't terribly surprised to see that everything her stomach had yielded was red. Most of what she'd thrown up was blood. She sighed shakily and looked up.

Carol and Dave stood in the doorway, their eyes wide with horror. A moment later, Tara, Tanner and Eugene appeared behind them.

Mason flinched. It was time. It was time, but she didn't want it to be.

As soon as he saw the sorry state of her, Eugene leapt forward, gasping her name, but Carol shoved him back.

"You idiot, you can't go near her," she hissed. " _Look_."

Quickly, Mason wiped the blood from her mouth and pushed herself to her feet; Eugene let out a tiny noise of distress at her obvious struggle.

"I thought you said that shit wasn't contagious," Carol continued- angry from fear.

Eugene shook his head, eyes wide with confusion. "It- it can't be that. It's only transmissible through blood."

"Well, it's obviously getting around some other way. We need-"

"No, no," Mason cut in, waving her hands earnestly. "It's not. It's not getting around any other way."

Carol's eyes were like flint. "You just _puked blood_ , Mason. If this is contagious, we need to know _now_ , we can't play games with something like this."

Mason swallowed hard. She didn't want to, she didn't want to, but... Her fingers trembled as she reached for the hem of her shirt.

And pulled it up to expose the web of black veins wrapping her abdomen.

Silence. Such silence it was unbearable. Heaving another shaky sigh, she looked up.

The others all wore matching expressions of shock, of dawning anguish, but it was Eugene that her gaze went to.

He stared at her in disbelief. Taking in her veins, then taking in her face.

He shook his head.

"No."

"It happened after the battle," Mason said softly. "Alpha injected me right before I killed her."

" _No_."

Her lips trembled. Her voice was barely a breath. "I'm sorry."

He blinked at her, still shaking his head, still saying "no" like he thought he could change reality through sheer force of denial. But that denial wavered wildly, turning to desperation, to _pleading_ , as he watched her face. He reached for her, staggering a bit, and she reached for him, wishing she could offer him anything else but this.

But a tear slid down her cheek, and she whispered again, "I'm sorry."

And it broke him.

He sank to the floor and she went with him, crushing themselves together like they would never get close enough. He buried his face in her shoulder and wept, deep, shuddering sobs that she could feel in her bones.

She'd never heard him cry like this before. Not when Glenn and Abraham died. Not when Rick attacked him after the War.

 _This._

 _This_ was him shattering piece by piece. Breath by breath.

There was nothing she could do for him. No way for her to make it better.

She could not protect him from this.

 **Eugene**

He sat next to Mason's bed in the infirmary, staring blankly at the wall. There was no sound but the intermittent beep of the heart monitor, and the restless whir of the centrifuge. She'd finally gone to sleep after hours of stubborn refusal. Partly to make it easier as the medic crew ran their tests, but partly, he knew, to keep an eye on him.

Fabi, Mateo and Nick had given over all the information they'd gathered from their secret sessions with Mason. But the data had offered up as much as Sasha's ever had and the weight on his lungs just seemed to press down that much harder.

It took every effort just to breathe. It took every effort not to tear the whole world apart.

It wasn't that she had lied to him. Half of him understood why and the other half simply recognized it as true-to-form _Mason_. He couldn't blame her for trying to spare him. Her first instinct, always, from the very start, was to protect him.

But he was angry.

He was angry at Alpha for everything she'd done to fuck them over, for not even letting them have their victory.

He was angry at the world for allowing this to happen, for the cruelest bait and switch it had ever played.

He was angry at himself for not realizing Mason was sick, for not seeing past her lies, for not doing enough.

He was angry, and he was terrified, and he was _so numb_ , and he wasn't sure how that was possible.

But it didn't matter. His feelings were irrelevant.

He was _not_ going to let this happen. He was _not_ going to let her die. It didn't matter that the data, the odds, the whole fucking universe was against them.

His first instinct was to protect her, too.

 **Mason**

For several days, Eugene was a different man. Hollowed out and hyper-focused. He spent all his time in the infirmary with her, burying his attention in blood and chemicals. The self-destructive ferocity with which he threw himself into his research bordered on masochism; he didn't eat, he barely slept, and only when Mason insisted she wanted him to hold her.

And each day...each day she could see his frustration building. Each test that yielded no viable result was a new knife scraping his bones. He didn't want to see it. He was fighting it every step.

The others dropped in periodically to see her- although Eugene's furious energy was usually quick to see them out the door again. But watching him fighting so hard for her...she knew it was giving them hope, tentative though it was after Sasha. And she wasn't sure what was kinder- telling them now that there was no hope, or letting it comfort them a bit longer.

Daryl, Tanner and Dave stuck around most often, lingering in the bed with Mason or sleeping on the floor. She could tell that Tanner and Daryl both were filled with the same kind of energy as Eugene. Dave, on the other hand, was always on the verge of tears, though he never cried; he was always trying to make Mason laugh instead.

Despite their company, it didn't take long for her to get sick of laying in that bed day and night. Her only reprieve were her trips to the bathroom, and one experimental trek into the woods.

Everyone had been fascinated by the tale she'd told of the walkers, and how they had no longer viewed her as food. It implied that a cure could potentially make them invisible to walkers in addition to stymieing the resurrection virus. And if that were the case...

"We could hunt them and they wouldn't repopulate," Carl had concluded eagerly.

"It would likely take a while," Eugene had warned- his voice barren, distracted. "Possibly decades before their extinction."

But the thought of a world without walkers...

Restart. The world Eugene had once promised for all of them.

So the medic crew, accompanied by Daryl, Sherry, Carol and Maggie, had taken Mason out to the woods to replicate her story.

While they'd watched, hidden but close, Mason had lured in the dead by singing, and again they had surrounded her without touching her. It wasn't until the others had emerged that the walkers became predatory at all.

The medic crew had made quick work of drawing vials of the walkers' blood before dispatching them, all of them harmonious in their astonishment. Well, except for Eugene. His face had remained frozen in grim, single-minded focus. Unreachable by anything but the commitment to saving Mason.

So they'd gathered their walker blood and started running tests, but nothing unusual came up in the results. No anomalies, nothing different about the undead that might have provided a link to Mason's illness. And just like with Sasha, they'd hit a wall.

Mason could see it clearly in the faces of Renee and Denise, who watched her the same way someone on a beach watched the sinking of a distant ship. Fabi and Mateo were equally defeated, though not terribly surprised; they'd seen so many die at the hands of this strange virus already. Nick, too, understood that this was the end, though he tried to treat her with as much normalcy as possible, which she appreciated.

But Eugene...

Eugene had buried himself deep in denial, so effectively Mason wondered if he hadn't picked up the habit from her. She wasn't sure how to reach him. He was gentle with her, always concerned with how she was feeling, but... He'd cut himself off from everything else. Turned himself into winter again.

He was an arrow shot straight into the sky, and Mason knew that soon his momentum would fail him- _e_ _verything_ would fail him- and he would plummet back down to Earth.

 **Eugene**

He was standing on a beach. His family's beach, but...different somehow. Just slightly off reality.

Everything was salt and cloud cover and quiet, muted waves. And ahead of him, the grave.

In the waking world, they'd already removed the marker from the place where they'd buried him. But now here it was, plain and unassuming, except for...

Except for a feather tied to the left arm of the cross, fluttering in a quiet breeze.

Mason's feather, the one Ezekiel had given her.

The sight of it started him forward, his heart seizing with dread. He tried to call for her, but found he could not make a single sound, and when he finally knelt before that little whitewashed cross, there were tears coursing down his cheeks.

His lips formed her name again. Even the ocean was silent. And then...

" _Eugene..._ "

A gentle whisper, one that came from nowhere and everywhere at once, one that swept over him like the forgiving kiss of spring after a harsh winter.

And his tears continued, but the dread trickled out of him. He was filled instead with that loving breath of spring, of May flowers, of sunlight. Weeping silently, he dug his fingers into the sand, scooping it away handful by handful, until he touched something buried there.

Fingers clutched tenderly at his own, and that beautiful, beautiful voice came again. His own personal spring, his May. He looked down to find his hands clasped with a pair that rose from the grave, covered and coiled with purple and yellow flowers. As if the blossoms _lived_ there. As if they grew from her skin.

He crouched there for an eternity, staring down at those hands, wanting to pull her up but knowing, somehow, that he never could. Knowing that they were separated by more than earth.

She said his name again, and there came a whisper of music like dreamy wind chimes, different songs twining together that he recognized as some of her favorites.

Then she squeezed his hands and let go, sinking back into the sand, and...

He was waking up. Slowly. Quietly. He was back in the infirmary, slouched in his chair by Mason's bed. His tears had followed him into the waking world; his eyes were puffy and his cheeks damp. Daryl and the Misfits were asleep on the floor, cuddled up together like a pile of kittens, the same way they'd all slept together in the mountain house. But next to him, Mason was awake, her headphones on, her eyes sad as she watched him.

He stared back, fresh tears making their way down his face.

She knew. She'd known all along.

He supposed he had, too, deep down.

After a moment, she removed her headphones and reached out to take his hand in hers. "It's okay," she murmured.

It wasn't. Nothing ever would be again. But he didn't say this. Instead, he kissed her hand and replied, "When my heart stopped, before I came back, I had a dream. Similar to one I'd had before, on the road after leaving the Kingdom. I was drowning in blood, a veritable ocean of it, and I was absolutely and unequivocally certain that I was dead and those were my last moments. Or that, perhaps, after all I'd done, I had finally been sent to hell."

Mason's fingers twitched sharply around his in clear disapproval. He smiled a little, but there was no life to it.

"However, just as I was giving up the ghost, I heard voices."

Mason stilled, blinking at him. He stared back unflinchingly, drinking in the color of her eyes and the shape of her mouth and the scar on her cheek. Every little thing about her, he wanted it memorized.

"Some of them, I did not recognize by name but rather...in my heart. In my bones. Others were painfully clear. Dray. Charlie. Ashlee. Rick. Abraham and Glenn. And Beth. After our dream meeting in which she gave me tea and told me to dance with you, I have heard her intermittently. Mostly while asleep. She came to me in this dream, too, and told me to fight. That it wasn't my time yet, that I still had a job to do. She grabbed my arms and pulled, and the others began pulling, too, dragging me out of that monstrous ocean. There was so much blood I couldn't see them, but I felt them all, their strength. Their love. That was about the same time my heart started again. Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to the most beautiful thing in the multiverse."

With his free hand, he reached out to stroke her face. She smiled a little, but a tear rolled down her cheek and pooled against his thumb.

His throat welled.

"May."

His voice was a broken whimper.

"I don't want to say goodbye to you."

She let out a tiny sob and shook her head. "Then don't." Sniffling, she offered him a smile. "Hey. What aircraft is the raddest aircraft?"

"May..."

"The _hella_ -copter. Ha. Get it."

And she looked so earnest, so proud of herself, that he couldn't help a slight twitch of his lips.

Her eyes narrowed slyly, sensing weakness.

"Maybe a nerdy one will get you... Oh, I got it! How often do you like jokes about elements?" she said. " _Periodically_?"

He bit the inside of his lip. She just looked so damn pleased with herself-

"What, no _reaction_ from the Chemist? I know you wanna laugh, don't even try and play."

He jumped when she began poking him and huffed in exasperation.

" _May_ , c'mon..."

"Do I have to start quoting Vines? Is that what it's gotta come to?"

" _Quit_ it-"

But she just kept poking him, aiming smugly at his most ticklish spots.

" _I love you,_ _biitch_..." she sang while he twitched and wriggled in a vain attempt to escape. " _I ain't never gonna stop loving you...biiitch_."

Eventually there was no help for it and he had no choice but to laugh. And when he did, Mason stopped her torment to lean back and smile tenderly.

"There it is," she murmured. "My favorite sound in the world."

His own smile lingered, though the sorrow in him... He could barely breathe around it.

" _Je t'aime, mon ange, protecteur de mon âme_ ," he said.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He kissed her hand.

"I love you."

He kissed her other hand.

"My angel."

He kissed her forehead.

"Protector of my soul."

In his mind, he saw again that grave. Her hands covered in flowers. He felt again that otherworldly peace, but only distantly. Like a memory he could grasp for only a moment before it dissolved.

In the waking world, it settled into stony resolve.

He knew what the dream meant. He knew how to read her blood, the uselessness of his own chemicals. He wasn't stupid. She wasn't either.

But she wanted him to come back into himself. And he would do whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. He would continue his research on the off-chance a cure could be found because it would haunt him if he didn't, if he didn't try everything he could to save her. But if he could not...

If he could not, he was going to bury her.

And then he was going to put a bullet through his skull.

 **Mason**

Eugene thought he was hiding it well, but he had been the one to teach her how to lie. And she knew him better than anyone.

In the Kingdom, back when she'd brought up her own funeral, he'd insisted they would go together. That someone else would have to bury them, because if she were gone, he would be, too.

She understood. There was not a world worth living in without him in it, and she knew he felt the same about her.

But she also understood several other things, things she wasn't sure she could speak out loud to get him to hear her, _really_ hear her.

So she began to write. All day, while the medic crew ran their tests. All night, when the pain and nausea kept her awake. Writing and rewriting until she thought it was perfect, then rewriting again. Because it _needed_ to be perfect.

Whenever Eugene asked what she was writing, she told him simply that she was trying to write the best poem she could. Poetry was something she'd struggled to get just how she liked it, and he knew that, and thankfully didn't question her further.

He still ran his tests with the rest of the medic crew, but he had calmed considerably, enough that the others mistook this as an indication that there was still hope. But that was the act. That was the lie she saw in his eyes. He wasn't calm, he had just made up his mind about something. She'd been in his position enough times to know what that something was.

Then one night, she was awoken by a shuddering cramp in her gut. It wasn't all that unusual, although she tried to be quiet as she snuck to the bathroom- Eugene was asleep in his usual chair, and she didn't want to wake him.

She vomited quietly into the toilet, cleaned herself up, and tried not to be shocked by her gaunt, pale reflection in the mirror. She looked like a wraith; no wonder the others hovered over her like she might break.

Nick was waiting for her in the hall, his face solemn. But he offered his arm, bowed his head, and said in a ridiculously regal tone, "My lady."

She looped her arm through his and let him lead her back to the infirmary, trying not to let on how much she appreciated the help; even the short walk to the bathroom and back had left her winded.

He helped her back into bed, both of them taking great pains not to wake Eugene, or the pile of Misfits on the floor. But despite her exhaustion, she wasn't ready to lay down; she sat with her legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and after a moment, Nick sat next to her.

There was a brief silence, in which Mason examined Eugene's sleeping face. Then she murmured, "We're mirror opposites."

Nick blinked at her. She played idly with her wedding ring.

"Eugene and I, we always have been. The exact same in some respects, and polar opposites in others. It's why we're so good for each other, I guess. Our bodies reflect it now, all our scars, thanks to Alpha. But even our circumstances... He died and came back. I'm dying and I will never come back, not even as a walker. And years ago, when we first met..."

She trailed off, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat.

"He didn't want to die. He was terrified of death. And I _wanted_ to die. For a long time, it was the _only_ thing I wanted...or at least the only thing I thought I deserved."

She lowered her head.

"Now I'm getting my wish," she murmured. "Right when I don't want it. And he..."

She shook her head. Tears spattered her skin.

"He gets to live. The universe looked at us and saw what we wanted and said, 'Here, you can have it. But only when you realize it's not what you want. Only when you realize you would trade it for anything else.' I will die and he will live and I don't want to leave him, Nick, I'm not ready, I don't want to leave him..."

She trailed off into quiet sobs and Nick wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

" _It's not fair_ ," she whispered.

"No," he replied. "It's not."

He let her cry on him until the tears stopped. Then he kissed her cheek and tucked her into bed and promised to bring breakfast bright and early in the morning.

Mason fell asleep.

A few hours later, she began to seize.

She couldn't remember it. She only knew it had happened when she regained consciousness and the medic crew explained why they were gathered around her, wiping blood from her face.

She felt incredibly weak after that. The bleeding became near-constant. She had no appetite, no energy, barely any air to fill her lungs. Despite everything, she recognized the panic in Eugene's face, and she realized that no matter how prepared anyone thought they were, they never were.

The morning passed in hazy, dragging lurches. From what she gathered, she was losing blood faster than the transfusions could replenish it. Her heart was working overtime, weakening with the strain of it.

Around noon, she told the others that she wanted to say goodbye.

Daryl was absolutely furious, pacing the room and snarling about how she wasn't going to die. But Mason managed to placate him by joking that if she turned out to be wrong and lived, they could all make fun of her for being such a drama queen.

Nick and Renee went out to let the others know.

One by one, she said her goodbyes.

She tried to be strong for her family, most of whom still refused to believe that this was the end. She managed to hold herself together a good portion of the time.

But there were moments she thought she would shatter completely.

Like when Carl and Michonne brought Judith in, and Judith wrapped her little arms around Mason and refused to let go, sobbing so hard she could barely catch her breath.

" _Don't go,_ " she wailed, half-angry, exactly how she'd been after losing her dad.

Mason tried to smile. "I...I wish I didn't have to, princess."

" _I won't let you_."

Then she squeezed Mason even tighter, like she thought she could shield her from the world.

Or when Jesus sat next to her on the bed, and Mason offered him a triumphant grin.

"I beat you to the grave," she said. "That's a shit ton of points right there."

He lowered his head briefly and huffed a laugh. "Yeah."

She tipped her head. "Don't cry. If you cry, you lose by default."

She meant it jokingly, but then he looked up. And when she saw the tears on his face, the breath caught in her throat.

"Paul..." she murmured. She'd never called him by his real name before.

He shrugged. "You win, Mason. You win because you're a bratty little punk and you're gonna make me miss you. You're gonna make all of us miss you like fucking crazy."

Then he hugged her fiercely and she hugged him back, and she wished she had something snarky to say but all she managed was, "My bad."

Or when the Misfits finally returned and piled onto her bed without a word. She could tell they were trying to be delicate with her, so she snuggled adamantly into their arms to prove that she wasn't going to break.

For a long while, she savored the warmth of the three of them, holding her like they would never let go.

Then she said, "Thanks for saving me."

Not just that day on the mountain, when she had nearly bled out in Eugene's arms. But every day after that, when they had reminded her that she was more than just shadows.

They leaned back, all of them teary-eyed and solemn, and laid their fists over their hearts.

"Thanks for saving us," Renee replied.

And god.

It hurt like hell.

She thought she was prepared for it, but...she supposed no one ever was.

Finally it was just her and Daryl and Eugene, each of them with a cat perched in their lap. She tried to stay up for them, to keep them from brooding, but it was so damn hard to keep her eyes open.

She tried jarring herself awake with loud music, smiling as she cycled through some of her old emo punk playlists.

"Remember how much Beth loved this stuff?" she asked Daryl.

Mason couldn't count the many times she'd found Beth lying in their cell, looking as sweet and innocent as always, while blasting My Chemical Romance or Pierce the Veil.

"Yes," he answered quietly.

"Remember how Abraham gave us shit for listening to it, but then he'd always end up rocking the fuck out?" she asked Eugene.

All those scouting trips the three of them used to take together, pestering the hell out of each other, making each other laugh.

"I remember," he said.

"Good out of the bad," she murmured, leaning back with a faint smile.

She tried like hell, but it was getting so hard to stay awake.

 **Eugene**

When Mason awoke in the middle of the night, he knew she wasn't going to make it to the bathroom in time. He held a bucket for her to heave quietly, apologetically into, while he squeezed her fingers with his free hand and Daryl stroked her hair.

She couldn't sleep after that. It took one glimpse of the moonlight shining in through the window for her to rise shakily in bed and proclaim that she wanted outside.

It reminded him irresistibly of that night in the library, when she'd looked outside and been enamored with the stars, when they'd risked both walkers and Abraham's wrath just to watch the sky.

But looking at her now... Clammy and trembling. Deep shadows feathering the skin beneath her eyes. Nearly all her veins were black now, standing out like tree limbs against the pale winter of her skin.

He told her she was too weak. She scowled and insisted she was fine, which was so far from the truth it was almost comical.

"Just five minutes," she said. "Please. I want to see the moon. I want to see the sky. The fresh air'll probably make me feel less like shit anyway."

In the end, he couldn't say no to her. Not now. So he freed her from the IV and the monitor, before wrapping an arm around her waist. Daryl steadied her other side and together they helped her through the window- quicker, she contended, than walking all the way through the house, and therefore less exhausting. He suspected, however, it had more to do with the others seeing her than anything. After saying her goodbyes, it had been painfully obvious how much it cost her, how much it wrung from her, holding herself together. Parading past her family now would take more strength than she had.

The moment her bare feet hit the sand, she sighed and relaxed visibly. She breathed deep, casting her eyes to the moon, her eyes widening as they always did at the enduring beauty of the night.

Grief clawed at his chest but he didn't let it show. He wouldn't ruin this for her. She stepped forward and he and Daryl followed, but when she came to the ocean's edge she shrugged out of their grip. Her eyes were fixed on the line of moonlight stretching like a bridge across the waves, glittering with the sea's eternal movement.

Slowly, she glided forward until the tide washed over her feet, and standing there, a sheet wrapped around her like a dress, the breeze brushing through her starlit hair...

She looked ethereal. Otherworldly. As if she were already half-way gone.

One glance at the reverence on Daryl's face and Eugene knew he saw it, too.

Here was Mason in her true skin. She was not her fire alone, which had blazed a path for her army to follow in the War. She was not the ice that had consumed her afterward, that had carried them through the desert. She was not the shadows that tormented her, or the light that she gave to her people. She was all of that and so much more, and of course he had known this, he had always known it, but he could see that she knew it now, too, that she was finally realizing exactly who she was.

She was the night. She was the ocean singing to the moon and the moon singing back. She was every bit of melody that had ever held her captive, that had ever known her heart.

He and Daryl hovered anxiously as she walked into the water and dove beneath the waves. But she resurfaced, gleaming like liquid starlight, and laid on her back, letting the sea cradle her.

She was queen of the night and she knew her own worth now.

She was so perfect and always had been and he could barely breathe.

It wasn't fair.

 **Mason**

The next day, she was the weakest she'd ever been. She could barely hold her head up to drink the water Eugene offered, could barely keep her eyes open while he and the medic crew tended to her.

She was so anemic she felt drunk, wispy. She nodded in and out of consciousness, and the spirits mingled with the living. Renee and Sasha, Denise and Charlie, Daryl and Rick, Eugene and Beth.

She loved the sight of them. All of them. But she couldn't keep her eyes off of Eugene.

He was so fucking beautiful, body and soul. The moonlight in her darkness. She couldn't get over it.

And she was going to miss him so fucking much. Every freckle on those hands she'd craved, held, kissed. Every tiny bit of ocean and sky and morning and twilight in those blue, blue eyes. It was going to cave her in, it was going to utterly wreck her, the missing him.

That was the absolute worst part.

~m~

While Eugene was fetching more water, she had just enough energy to take the feather from her hair, the ring from her finger, and the pendant from her neck. She moved quietly, careful not to wake Daryl, asleep in the chair next to her bed. She set her things on the table next to the bed, then grabbed her iPod. Even these simple tasks left her drained, and she focused on catching her breath as she searched through her music.

When Eugene walked through the door, she thought it was the setting sun casting him in red. But then his face pinched and he hurried over, setting the water on the table so he could wipe away the blood leaking from her eyes.

She watched him the whole time, smiling in spite of everything. He frowned.

"And what is that look for, Mrs. Porter?"

"I just love your face," she rasped, and patted the space next to her. "Cuddle with me."

"Yes, ma'am."

He had her drink what water she could and then climbed into bed with her, snuggling as close as possible. And when she could feel his heartbeat thudding against her own bones, she pressed play.

He went still, recognizing the song immediately.

"May..." His voice was choked with agony.

"You don't have to play it when you bury me," she whispered. "But play it at my grave, okay? Whenever you're ready."

"Don't," he pleaded. "I can't-"

"Sing with me."

His eyes met hers, welling with anguish. But she started singing, feeble but earnest, and after a moment he did, too, tears glistening on his face.

And that was how they spent the next hour, singing under their breath to each other while the sun went down.

He tried so hard to stay awake for her. But he'd slept very little since she'd revealed the truth, and he was utterly exhausted. After a while, his voice drifted to nothing and his eyes closed, just as she'd hoped.

The moment she was sure he was asleep, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the note, neatly-folded and addressed to him.

Gently, she slipped it into his hand and curled his fingers closed around it.

She kissed him once, so softly, on his lips.

Then she closed her eyes.

~m~

"Mason..."

For a moment, she was tempted to keep her eyes shut. Wherever she was, there was no pain. She wanted to live inside of how she felt, she wanted to glow with it-

"Mason, wake up."

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She was lying on the shore, soaked to the bone. As she lifted her head, the tide washed over her and then back again, smooth as silk, smooth as starlight.

Everyone was waiting for her.

Lori T-Dog Hershel Bob Merle Tyreese Noah

Bill and Janet, looking younger than she'd seen them in life.

AJ with a girl she assumed could only be Sadie.

Glenn grinning from ear-to-ear.

Abraham with Sasha in his arms.

Ashlee and Dray and Charlie, nearly bouncing in their excitement.

Rick, looking so, so proud.

And Beth.

Beth smiling down at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, offering her hand.

And Mason knew that she wasn't dreaming. That if she took it, she would not wake up. That she could see her family again, her living family, but only through windows. Only until it was time for them to join her.

It was the only pain in this place, but it was enough that she hesitated before finally taking Beth's hand.

Beth pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in her arms, twirling around joyfully until they both were laughing. The other spirits gathered around them, hugging her and laughing and complaining that she'd kept them waiting. And the world, _wherever_ they were, was so breathtaking, like nothing she could have ever imagined.

But even in the midst of this tremendous joy, even in the absence of all other pain, she felt it.

The absence of _him_.

She glanced back, at the hazy image of the beach house, as if she could see right through those walls to where he slept.

Tears pricked her eyes.

"I miss him already," she said.

And she did. God, she did.

Beth nodded and kissed her hand.

"I know."

 **Eugene**

When he awoke, she was already gone.

He tried to resuscitate her. His heart thundered a million miles a minute while he fought desperately to get her heart beating, tear-blind and half-crazed with anguish.

But her eyes stayed closed. There was no pulse, no breath.

Trembling, he curled himself around her, sobbing hard enough that his whole body ached.

There was not a word for the pain. He had not known agony until now.

Distantly, he was aware of Daryl crying, too, of Nick and Renee and Denise appearing beside the bed.

A veil came down between him and them, between him and the rest of the world.

She was gone.

She was gone and he was, too.

NOTE: Just a quick little note, now that I don't have to worry about spoilers. I picked "Outro" as the chapter title/song not just because it fits this chapter, but because I wanted to pay a sort of homage to "Coda" (you know...the sad episode...with Beth). This chapter is, essentially, Mason's coda, her outro, and I'm sure ya'll know by now how much of a nerd I am for symbolism and things coming full circle and all that. But yeah, anyway... I finished the whole story. All of it. And so long as my computer cooperates, I will be posting the rest of it right after this one. So with that, I hope ya'll enjoyed this one. And I hope ya'll enjoy the finale.


	36. Wait

Okay, guys, I'll keep this brief. The chapter song is "Wait", another M83 song (because they are perfection and I swear if my soul was music, that's what it would sound like). Also, the poem in this chapter is written by Erin Van Vuren. She's written a lot of other great poems, you should really check them out, but the one I use is by far my favorite of hers. Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy!

36\. Wait

The evening was quiet, the stars coming out. Eugene walked slowly down the beach with her headphones slung around his neck, her music playing softly through them, though the sound gutted him.

The others were all inside. No one had kept watch in the three weeks since burying Mason. No one had patrolled, either. Though the house was filled with people, it was terribly empty.

When he got to the edge of the water, he stopped. The tide rushed in and out, ceaseless against the very end the of the world.

He wasn't quite sure why he was here. All he really wanted was to curl up in his bed, breathing in the last lingering wisp of scent Mason had left on her pillow. He wasn't sure how he'd sleep once it was gone. Perhaps that would be the end.

He'd thought about it. Every day. Every second. Every painful, dragging heartbeat he'd grown to resent since her death. He wanted it now more than anything. He'd calculated all the ways he could do it, and he'd very nearly followed through a few times.

But each time, holding the gun, he'd never been able to bring himself to pull the trigger.

It wasn't out of fear this time. There was no fear now. There was nothing in him but his grief.

It was the letter holding him back.

Every time he considered ending it, he thought of what she'd written him. He thought it in her voice, which was almost unbearable, and it stopped him every time.

He reached into his pocket now and drew it out. He didn't unfold it. Didn't read it. He had the whole thing memorized. But feeling it, touching it, was like a tether to her. It grounded him, even as the pain threatened to steal the strength right from his legs.

The song changed. He recognized the new one that started up as one of her favorites. One of his, too. The first time she'd ever played it for him, back in Georgia, after Terminus, they'd sat side by side, watching the night sky through a canopy of leaves. Her eyes had lit up, and she'd confessed how much she loved it, how beautiful she thought it was. He'd been tempted to hold her hand, to tell her that she was this song embodied, but she hadn't taught him to be brave yet.

He screwed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow block out the image. He couldn't stop remembering things. It seemed he didn't have Mason's knack for repression, because every second was consumed with memories, good and bad and beautiful. Even when he slept, he dreamt he was back in Georgia, laughing with her on the train tracks, or in Virginia, dancing with her through the trees, or in the desert, making love to her.

Breathing took a serious effort, but he managed it. He fingered the creases of the note, his eyes still closed, and let her words fill him instead.

 _Hello, Gene Bean._

 _If you're reading this, it either means that I am currently six feet under, or you've snooped through my stuff- which is a serious invasion of privacy and I could definitely have you arrested for it. Of course, if it's the latter, I probably wouldn't, because seeing you in handcuffs would just get me all hot and bothered and then you'd have the upper hand._

 _If it's the former, I'm sorry._

 _I'm so, so fucking sorry. Leaving you is the last thing in this goddamn world that I'd ever want to do. It's why I waited so long to tell you- I knew it would hurt you, and that I'd have no say in it, and I can't stand that._

 _It's also why I'm writing this, or at least, it's part of it. I wanted to leave something behind for you. I mean, I'm leaving everything to you (I'm gifting my iPod to you, by the way, so you should feel pretty damn special). But I wanted to put my thoughts into words- I wanted to put_ myself _into words, so that I could linger for you. So that you would know, without a doubt, how much I loved you, and still love you, and will always love you._

 _But it's also because I've been where you are right now. You know I have. And I'm not stupid. I may not be as smart as you, but I can read you like a book. So I want you to pay attention._

 _Don't let this ruin you._

 _You can't._

 _It's going to suck. It's going to be the hardest fucking thing either of us will ever do, and I miss you so much already. I miss you so much I can barely hold the fucking pen to write this._

 _But you._

 _You're stronger than I am. You always have been. You may not believe it, but you are. And you need to_ live.

 _Because a world without you in it doesn't make sense. Because you have so much good to share with the world. Because our family is broken and they need you._

 _You are the Chemist. You freed your people in the War. You became their North Star in the desert. You were buried and reborn for them._

 _I told you they all need to follow your lead, and I meant it. You are strong enough to defend them. Smart enough to protect them. Brave enough to lead them. I know you don't want that. I didn't. But I trust you. There's no one I trust more._

 _They are the revenants coming back from the dead. You are the Phoenix to light their way._

 _And you're right. It does sound pretty badass._

 _I wish I'd had more time to lead them. I didn't want it at first, I still don't know if I do, but now I think...I think I could've been good at it. Maybe great. I wish I'd had time to see._

 _I guess I just wish I had more time in general._

 _There's this great line from_ Welcome to Night Vale, _I don't know if you remember: "Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you."_

 _This story was never mine. It was never about me. It was about you, and our family, and our life together._

 _And I know for a fact this isn't the end- for you or me._

 _Loving you is the greatest thing I'll ever do. Leaving you is the hardest. And maybe...maybe that's how I know it's not the end. Not really. Because if something so perfect can happen in this fucked up place, I have to believe it's forever. I will die and you will live and that's going to feel like leaving, that's going to hurt like hell._

 _But you and me? We're not meant to end. We may lose each other in the fray of existence, but it will never be permanent._

 _Across time, across space. Across every damn multiverse there is. We will find each other._

 _I know it feels like goodbye._

 _It isn't._

 _This isn't goodbye. That doesn't exist for us. I haven't left you at all._

 _I really hope I'm making sense. It's hard for me to put down exactly what I'm trying to say. I've never been the poet I always wanted to be. The words never come out right. I've struggled and struggled to convey what I thought I should, and I've never been satisfied with it._

 _But Eugene._

 _My love._

 _My best friend._

 _You made me realize that_ I _was the poetry. That_ you _were. Us, existing,_ that _was the poetry I was trying to create. And I don't need words for that. I got to live it. I got to meet you. I got to fall in love with you. I got to marry you and spend the very best years of my life with you. I never needed words for that._

 _But I need words for this. And they're falling short._

 _I found this poem by a woman named Erin Van Vuren in one of the books the Misfits brought back from scouting in the city. It made me cry the first time I read it, and every time after that. Most importantly, it made me think of you._

 _"_ Maybe last year was a past life. Maybe you've died since then. And maybe we'll never find our way back, but perhaps there's never a The End. I think we are all a bunch of Almosts trying to be Permanents, and that's where we're getting it all wrong. I am Here. You are There. We are Everywhere. I am I Love You. You are Goodbye. We are Hello Again. We are Alright. _"_

 _It's beautiful, right? I know you're not much into poetry. But have you ever read something, and it's so perfect, you can't believe it's not a sign?_

 _I love you. I love you I love you I love you and I will wait for you. Whatever adventure is ahead, I will find you first, I will sing you to me. I pinky swear._

 _I'm seriously tempted just to ramble on, but I'm getting tired now. It's so damn hard to stay awake these days. I can't even tell at this point if I'm making sense, so it's probably a good indicator to stop, but I just...want to talk to you forever. That's one of my favorite things._

 _Thank you for saving me. Over and over again. Thank you for absolutely everything._

 _Il n'y a pas de mort, seulement une séparation des voiles._

 _I hope I got that right. You know I don't speak baguette._

 _Love, forever,_

 _May_

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Twilight brooded around him, its lush colors deepening into the infinity of night.

She'd gotten the French right. Translated, it said, "There is no death, only a separation of veils."

No, he'd never been much for poetry.

He wished he could tell her that it was bullshit. That it sure as hell _felt_ like goodbye. That if she hadn't left, why did he wake up every morning to an empty bed?

He wanted _her_. No veils, no metaphors, just her. He would give up everything in this godforsaken universe just to see her again. Didn't she understand that?

And yet...

And yet, when he held the gun, he could never pull the trigger.

Why. Why the _fuck_ couldn't he do it? It certainly wasn't because he didn't want to. He was hollow, he was cold as winter. There was nothing left for him here.

 _Because our family is broken and they need you._

He flinched.

They'd lost Rick, the man who had saved them all, who had given them a family to belong to.

They'd watched as Ashlee and Dray and Charlie were torn apart by the dead.

They'd said goodbye to Sasha, all the while hoping for a cure.

And then they'd lost Mason, after believing their sorrows to be over.

He didn't think he'd ever seen them so desolate. Not even on the road out of Atlanta. Not even after the War. The Misfits were directionless, often wandering the house and forgetting where they were. Daryl raged, speaking to no one, though he wept tears only Eugene and Sherry were allowed to see. Even the children were like ghosts in their own skin, whether they fully understood what was happening or not.

They were not just broken. It was worse than that.

And Mason had thought...she'd thought _he_ could save them? He had never been a hero to begin with, never a leader. He didn't think he was even capable of saving himself.

He was not her. She was a loss to the world. He was just the ashes left behind.

 _They are the revenants coming back from the dead. You are the Phoenix to light their way._

Bullshit. He had never been a fire. He was not a lighthouse for the boats to come home to. He was not a lantern to illuminate the path.

He could not breathe life back into his people. He had failed in that respect with Mason. He would never forgive himself for that.

 _Don't let this ruin you._

 _You can't._

 _This isn't goodbye._

He clenched his teeth, tears blurring the stars as they emerged from the darkness.

 _Yes, it is,_ he thought furiously. _It is goodbye. You're gone and I can't hold myself together._

He was trembling, shaking with sobs that fought to escape. He was rising to a fever pitch, and the grief was so heavy he thought it might crush his bones, and he didn't see how he was still breathing, he may as well be drowning in the ocean-

Gently, so soft it was unreal, a set of fingers twined with his.

His rising tumult stuttered, faltered. His breathing stilled altogether as he looked to his left.

Her outline was faint, ghostly, like the halos that haunted streetlamps in a fog. It was so brief, meteoric, that his logic would later attempt to pass it off as a head trip, his anguish and his tears tricking him into seeing what he wanted to see.

But there she was. Smiling at him. Full of starlight.

And in that one breathless heartbeat, that single, small eternity, he remembered.

 _"I had a dream... That we were on a beach, watching the stars come out. There were so many of them, and they were all reflected in the ocean so it made it feel like we were out in space or something. But when I looked at you, you were...I don't really know how to explain it, honestly. It was like you were part of the sky, too. Transparent in a way, but full of stars. You were so happy, Mason."_

He'd dreamed of this. Back in Alexandria, after making love with her for the first time... He'd dreamed...

Mason's grin widened, and suddenly the memories flooded him- _she_ sent them in overwhelming waves, one after another after another after another. The good and the bad and the beautiful.

He saw her leaping out of that cornfield to save him. He saw her laughing at his jokes. He saw the fear the moment she realized she cared for him.

He saw her tucking flowers in his hair. Dancing to her music. Teaching him how to fight. Swinging her fire iron like a sword.

He saw her crying and covered in scars. He saw her grinning and covered in blood.

Moment after moment, joy after pain after joy, he saw her.

And it hurt. Fuck, it hurt more than anything.

But-

This time it was different.

There was happiness, too.

One tiny, glowing ember, and then another, and then another. Like stars emerging from the darkness, except they were inside of him. Suddenly, it wasn't Mason alone who was filled with starlight. He was swelling with it, breathless with it, he swore he must have wept it as he let the memories pour over him.

There was happiness.

There was _happiness_.

God, he'd almost forgotten what that felt like. At the touch of her hand, at the sight of her, the void inside of him had awakened into rich night. The abrupt, impossible difference left him dizzy.

And slowly...slowly...a realization began to take root in him.

He had lost Mason.

He would never fill that absence. He would never feel as though he hadn't died with her. He would miss her so badly every day for the rest of his life.

But...he had come back from the dead.

He had lost her.

He had also _loved_ her.

He'd had the privilege, the _honor_ , of loving her, of knowing her, and there wasn't a single part of him that would have taken a moment of that back.

He would have endured it all, any pain, just to do it all over again. Even this. And knowing that...

It was not goodbye.

He blinked, startled by the abruptness, the resolve of this revelation.

It was _not goodbye_.

It felt like it. He could not lie to himself about that.

But he had _found_ her. In all this mess, through everything, he had found her.

Death could not keep them apart. Neither could the universe. They were stronger than the end.

He blinked again, and the vision of her disappeared, but the feeling of her hand clasped with his...that lingered. The memories lingered, too, and this time he did not shy from them.

She hadn't left him. She had come to him. She'd flipped his switch. And if she thought he was strong enough to keep going...maybe he was.

He was not healed. Not remotely. He didn't think he ever truly would be.

That was okay.

The hollowness remained, and the cold, but...

The possibility of stars. He had felt them burn to life in his chest. He had felt her singing in his blood, just when he'd thought he was dead.

It was not the end. It was not goodbye. He would see her again.

Slowly, he raised his tear-filled eyes to the stars. They had never seemed brighter. They had never felt more like a promise.

The song came to an end and another one started up, but he paused it.

There was a lot of work to do, he realized. Three weeks gone in a haze and he was still waking up from it, but...

She'd held his hand. Reminded him she was there, always. He could do this, so long as he remembered that.

He was not dead yet. They all had jobs. He would go back to the beach house and drag his family from the grave, whatever it took. For them, for Mason. He could do this. She believed in him.

But first, he would visit her grave. There was a song he needed to play for her.


	37. Agnes

Alright, guys. This is the very, very last chapter in this entire series and...hoo boy, I'm a little emotional. I want to thank you all, but, if ya'll don't mind, I'll do it at the end; it's the most important thing, and I want to save it for last. The final chapter song is "Agnes" by Glass Animals, the one I've been referencing for a little while now. It is one of my top five favorite songs of all time, it means so much to me, and at some point I hope you guys listen to it. Also, quite a bit has happened between this chapter and the last (five years' worth, in fact) and while I do explain some of it, other things I left a little vague. Idk why, but some of my favorite endings have little gaps for my own imagination to fill, and while I probably didn't get it perfect, I certainly tried. Hope ya'll enjoy.

37\. Epilogue: Agnes

~m~

The morning was beautiful, pure blue above, the heat of the day not quite latched on yet. Perfect weather for running.

The music propelled him as he jogged through the sand. It had taken him a while, but he thought he finally understood why Mason had been so addicted to this.

He ran his usual circuit back and forth along the shore, relishing the burn in his muscles, the air rushing into his searing lungs, before eventually slowing. Sweat soaked him; he rubbed at his hair to un-stick it from his neck.

He took a quick dip in the ocean to cool off and then he made his way up the cliff to the woods. Alpha's head snapped at him, though with much less zeal than it used to five years ago. He flipped it off as he passed it, humming quietly to himself.

The graveyard sparkled in the early sun, each plot radiant with its accumulation of sea glass and shells. He grinned brightly at the sixth grave, the one with the flower crown hanging from its cross.

"Mornin', sunshine," he said and sat down next to it. "So I know I promised you last night that I would, and a Texas man always keeps his word, but I finally remembered that inappropriate joke. It's one that Abraham told me back on the road, and I confess it's likely one you've heard before but I thought it would appeal to your demented sense of humor, so I'm telling it all the same. What's the difference between oral and anal sex? Oral sex makes your day and anal sex makes your hole weak."

He swore he heard her beautiful giggle in the back of his mind. His eyes softened.

Last night he'd celebrated their anniversary. Seven years it would have been. And though she wasn't present physically, he'd spent the night with her anyway.

After dinner- a bright, riotous affair with his family- he'd rolled a joint, snatched a bottle of vodka and made his way to the cemetery. For the five years since her death, it had been his tradition. Get drunk, get high, weave her a crown of yellow and purple flowers. Sprawl out on his back next to her grave and stargaze, like they'd done so many times before. Sometimes he'd fall asleep and when he'd open his eyes, she'd be lying next to him, looking as real as ever. He didn't think they were dreams, even if he had to wake up from them.

It had become his tradition to visit her grave every normal day as well, at whatever time he was available, to read or play music or tell jokes or tell her about his day, to keep her updated on the family she'd left behind. He called it his meditation, and indeed he always felt calmer, more peaceful, afterward.

There was always so much to fill her in on. Like Tara and Denise's wedding. Like Renee and Rosita following their lead soon after. Like Theo's first word ("yay", which everyone agreed was spot on for his personality). Like Shiva having kittens, so now the house was overrun with cats. Like Daryl and Sherry expecting twins.

Like figuring out the cure.

Sasha had been right. He was a scientist now. He'd studied day and night the past few years to claim that title. He knew Mason would've gotten a kick out of the poeticism of the whole thing- and also out of seeing him in his lab coat and goggles. "You look so official," she would have teased.

It had taken him a long time. But he thought he'd finally cracked the code. He could not cure the dead, and hadn't ever expected to. But he thought he might be able to cure the living. What he'd theorized before from Sasha and Mason's illness turned out to be correct- the cure would make them invisible to walkers and halt the resurrection process. It would still be a long while before there was enough to give away to the rest of the survivors, however many were left, but he would do it. In any case, his family came first.

"I'll be checking in on the Solstice crew today," he said now. "If everything's hunky dunky, I will be sending them all home. Jesus has offered to play guide, although I wonder if he will return arm-in-arm with that stud he keeps making eyes at- Derek? He _is_ quite handsome; he had me questioning my sexuality first time I met him."

In his head, Mason cackled and he grinned.

With Nick's help, he'd turned the brewery into a testing facility, a proper one. He had started out experimenting merely on walkers, though that had been slow going, nearly impossible. But then, Nick had left.

Eugene had offered him a place in the group. "You are welcome to stay, you and Fabi and Mateo," he'd said. "All three of you have done so much for us."

"I appreciate it, but I can't," Nick had replied. "I just...can't do groups anymore. Not after everything. Anyway, I want to try and find my sister. I want to know that she's okay, that she's fulfilled. But sometime, I may come back to visit. If that's alright."

"You will always be welcome here. You're family now."

Nick had grinned before kissing Eugene's cheek. "I'm honored," he'd said. Then he'd sighed. "You'll need people. To find a cure."

"I've been chewing the cud on that. It may be about time to enlist in some willing participants." His family was willing, he'd known, but he wasn't. Not until he was certain the cure worked. "I will do it the right way. No Alpha-level mind games. It will, however, be the hardest part in all this. I can't leave my family to go searching for patients. And I can't allow people to come here unless I know for certain they are no threat to us."

Nick had frowned thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging. "Maybe I can help with that."

And so, Nick became their long-distance recruiter.

Eugene discussed with him exactly what to say to potential allies, the questions to ask, warning signs to look out for. Nick already had the instinct for it, and after Alpha, after living among all the horrible people she'd enlisted in her cause, he'd also learned to be less trusting.

When Nick finally left, Eugene had hugged him goodbye and said, "Send the lost to us."

A few months later, the first of Eugene's living patients had found their way to the beach. They said they'd met Nick on the road, that he'd told them about a Chemist who had come back from the dead, who knew how to bring the world back from the dead, too.

Eugene had nearly rolled his eyes- another poet, just like Mason.

More of them had appeared over time, all of them recruited by Nick, all of them good people. He'd taken to calling them the Solstice crew.

And all of them had brought with them varying stories of the Chemist- and the Reaper.

Nick, apparently, was spreading tales of them wherever he went, some of them true, some of hilariously exaggerated. Suddenly the Vigilantes of the Apocalypse were legend. And not only them, but the others in their group as well. Maggie and Michonne, as well as Eugene, had become known as the Widows. According to some, Morgan was a real life Jedi. The Misfits were renowned for their spirit and skill, and were said to have trained for years in solitude on a mountain before the Reaper had enlisted them in the War.

It was strategy as much as storytelling, Eugene had quickly realized; no one wanted to fuck with someone Death had claimed as her soulmate, just as no one wanted to fuck with her elite warriors. So everyone that found their way to the beach were equal parts hopeful and intimidated.

And with their participation, with Renee and Denise's help, he'd found the cure.

"I think we may be able to start administering vaccines to our own as early as this week," Eugene said now. "Cards on the table, it is likely safe to do so already. I'm well aware I'm playing this very cautiously. But there is always the possibility that there was a fluke in my findings."

Possible, but highly improbable.

Even before his patients, he had been the first to inject himself with the vaccine. Renee and Denise had been furious, but he wouldn't have felt comfortable any other way. He had led the research to find the cure; the responsibility fell on his shoulders.

He'd experienced an increased heart rate and higher body temperature, though only by a few degrees. And then the next day, he had passed a pack of walkers and...nothing. He'd held out his arm for them to sniff, and they had merely cocked their heads and lumbered away. He'd been so excited, so floored by the whole thing, that he'd had to sit for a minute while his head stopped spinning.

After that, he had administered the vaccines to his patients, monitoring for adverse symptoms. But a good portion of his discoveries had stemmed from holistic remedies; the vaccine was gentle, but plainly effective, and no one became sick. And once their body temperatures had returned to normal- they hadn't even risen enough to justify calling them fevers- he'd taken them outside to see how the dead treated them.

Not a single walker had pursued them. Not a single one had tried to bite or scratch. They'd regarded them with lazy curiosity, as if they realized the crew was different from them but not different enough to be prey.

"And after our family, the Kingdom will be our next priority," Eugene continued.

They'd kept in contact with their Virginian family as much as they possibly could from separate coasts. They'd continued their annual pilgrimage there and back again, though that first one, after Mason...that first one had been hard.

He hadn't even been sure he'd wanted to make it, but he'd known Mason would have wanted him to go. He'd taken only a small group- Daryl, Renee, Tanner, Dave, and Rosita- unwilling to leave the rest of his family without a proper fighting force.

When they'd come to the gate without Mason, Ezekiel had taken one look at Eugene's face, at the grief in his eyes, and shaken his head.

"No," he'd said.

Eugene had steeled himself, reminding himself to be strong, and said simply, "Can we come in?"

After telling the story about Alpha and Mason, Ezekiel had wept, him and Jerry both. Eugene and his group had cried, too. And that night Ezekiel had held a banquet to honor her and the others.

"I am more sorry than words can convey," Ezekiel had said when it came time for Eugene to leave. "She was truly a queen in her own right, and the world is all the lesser without her. But you...you were quite blessed to have loved her."

Eugene had smiled. "My thoughts exactly, your Majesty."

"They really miss you, you know," he said now. "They still tell tales of the year their Kingdom became the Kingdom of the Dead. I miss you, too, though of course you already know that."

It never got easier. He hadn't expected that it would, but all the same...it still knocked the breath from him.

A gentle breeze drifted through the woods, ruffling the feather tied into his hair, and he thought he caught of trace of her scent.

He sighed, adjusting to the sorrow in his chest; it was second nature now, it had to be. Then he smiled and said, "Judy and Gracie have weapons training this afternoon. They're frighteningly good. In fact, the other day-"

His walkie talkie crackled, cutting him off.

"Eugene, you there?"

He grabbed it off his belt, his fingers brushing the revolver that sat next to it.

"Howdy, Daryl," he replied.

"Found some fresh faces out here on the edge of town. Nick sent 'em. Said they wanna talk to the Chemist."

"Go ahead and bring them to the usual spot. We'll be waiting."

Eugene got to his feet. "Sorry to cut our date short, love. But I'll be back, cross my heart."

He made his way back home.

~m~

They stood as one on the beach while Daryl led the newcomers toward them. It was a bigger group this time, ten in total, though they looked cautious rather than combative.

Eugene figured that was partly due to the fact that each of his people bore heavy artillery. In addition to his ongoing research with the cure, he had made a name for himself as the bullet maker. Chemist and metallurgist apparently. His family's weapons cache was enormous, more impressive than it had ever been. No one had wanted to fuck with them so far, and if anyone ever did...good luck to them.

He stood at the heart of his people, waiting. He wore Abraham's gloves, and tucked inside those gloves, against each palm, a little moon stone. He wore Abraham's necklace, Mason's wedding ring hanging next to the little red pendant. He wore Rick's revolver on his belt, and on the other side his own butterfly knife. Across his back, Mason's fire iron was slung. In his hair, her feather was woven. His body bore her scars in their entirety.

Daryl stopped the newcomers a few yards away, stepping back to aim his crossbow casually at them. With a quick, uncertain glance at him, the man at the head of the group said, "My name's Lewis. We traveled for a while back in Colorado with a man named Nick."

"And?" Michonne said- coolly, just in case. Everyone had become so very good at acting.

"And... We're looking for the Chemist."

No one in his family moved, but Eugene could feel them all tense. Waiting for his response.

He didn't hesitate.

Squaring his shoulders, he strode forward, pushing gently through his people until he stood at their head.

Right where he belonged.

"I am the Chemist," he said. "We call ourselves the Revenants. And I am the leader of these fine people."

And suddenly, at his side...he felt her.

Gentle fingers twining with his own, the warmth of her right arm brushing his left.

He didn't look, but he could feel her grinning at him. He could feel the pulse of her pride, her love, within him.

 _That's my Gene Bean._

He smiled just a little bit.

Then he addressed the strangers.

"Am I right in assuming Nick sent you here as potential patients?"

The man nodded, glancing back at his people. "Yes. We...a couple of us are sick. It took everything just to get here, but we heard...we heard there's a cure."

There was no guile on the man's face. Only fear for the well-being of his people.

Nick made a hell of a recruiter.

Eugene nodded. "Well, I'm glad you all managed the journey here. I assure you, we can help."

His family relaxed as he strode forward to shake the man's hand. They trusted his judgment. They trusted him.

"My name is Dr. Eugene Porter. And there is indeed a cure."

End

NOTE: Thank you guys. Thank you to everyone who has supported me through this very long series (it took literal years to finish and I genuinely thought I never would). Special thanks to my constant reviewers, DampishPoet and lindir's gaze. You two honestly kept me going when I probably would have otherwise quit. I am so, so thankful that you guys stuck with me this far, and I don't think I could convey how much it truly means to me. I didn't lie before; I'm actually getting pretty emotional writing this, which maybe sounds dumb, but this series is an end of an era for me. I'm glad I got to share with you. I wish you all the love in the world.

~themuse


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